


Fighting for air

by Crazy_Dumpling



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Dumpling/pseuds/Crazy_Dumpling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donghae is a rock star who doesn't believe half the things he sings about. Sungmin is a businessman who hates cliches. This is the story of how they manage to fall in love despite themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This monster of a fic is my attempt to try and write a HaeMin piece that wasn't a complete PWP. The only way I figured how to work out all the issues between Hae and Min was setting the story in an AU where Donghae is your typical promiscuous rock star, and Sungmin is someone trying to live a normal life. It's also an experiment in trying to write a properly fleshed-out story instead of the vignettes I usually stick to. Somehow, things didn't quite go to plan while I was writing and the wordcount ballooned quite alarmingly out of control. If there are any mistakes regarding anything vaguely related to Real Life here, I apologise. They are totally the result of me doing less research than I should. Thanks as always to glitterburn and diagon, for the cheerleading. And also to Donghae and Sungmin. The real boys, I mean. They've been so fabulously slashy throughout SS4, I just couldn't help myself. Not after seeing Donghae lifting Sungmin's skirt at SS4 Singapore. God bless you, Hae.

The first time Donghae sees Sungmin, he knows things will end badly. 

It doesn’t help that for once, his instincts will actually be right on the money. Donghae doesn’t know this when he first walks up to Sungmin, but he remembers it much later when he lies bruised and beaten on an anonymous hotel bed, totally worn out and defeated by love. He would curse himself, but he has no energy left.

But that is getting ahead of the story; this is how it begins.

Donghae spots Sungmin leaning against the bar in the small but exclusive club he comes to after the conclusion of every successful recording for a new single. He’s a big enough star in Seoul that he needs his own security detail whenever he goes into the studio or out to concert venues, but on his nights off, he prefers to be alone. The Venture Club is one of those private establishments that is so exclusive it doesn’t even need a sign outside the anonymous grey door that is its entrance. Donghae raps on the door once, and immediately a slot opens so the bouncer behind can take a look at him.

“Oh, it’s the Fish!” The man chuckles. “How you doing, sir? Let me just get this open for you.”

The door swings open and Donghae allows himself to be waved in. He smiles at the bouncer wearily and bounds down the stairs that lead to the main part of the club. The Venture Club is located in Apgujeong, under a slightly seedy looking noodle bar and behind a row of trendy fashion boutiques. It looks like the last place a club that boasts several celebrities and high-powered politicians frequent, but the perversity of its location appeals to Donghae’s sense of humour.

As he strides into the bar, Donghae can feel the eyes of nearly every single patron following him. It’s something he almost takes for granted nowadays; for the last ten years he’s been making music and acting in various dramas and movies. His latest album spent fifty-six weeks on the charts and he’s won a whole bag of awards for it, much to his manager’s satisfaction. He’s been in talks with a local designer to launch his own collection at an upcoming Fashion Week event, and he’s fucking several willing young men in the few free moments he can spare away from work. There’s no one serious, though; the last long-term relationship Donghae had ended with enough drama to fuel the tabloid magazines for six months. His manager was horrified; Jungsoo hates having to clean up Donghae’s dirty laundry, especially when it involves screaming at the press.

Other than that, life’s good; Donghae has his new single to release, along with the fashion collection coming up, as well as a concert tour around several major Asian cities. Not bad for a taxi driver’s son from Mokpo; he’s come so far since he was first spotted by a talent scout on his way to high school one cold autumn morning.

He saunters up to the bar counter, aware of several murmurs of surprise from the people around him; sure, the club numbers the rich and famous amongst its members, but obviously his appearance still has the same effect on rich stockbrokers as much as it does on screaming teenagers, and that suits him just fine.

Donghae spots his friend Heechul chatting to the bartender, perched elegantly on a stool. Dressed sharply in white and with a shimmering grey scarf around his neck, Heechul looks every part the feted designer he is, though his speech is still as down to earth and unaffected as ever.

“Get my friend another round, man!” Heechul is saying, “This is his first time here, and I haven’t seen him for ages, so make sure you get that premium stuff out of the cellar, yeah? The boy knows his wines, so I won’t be having you giving him some second-class shit.”

The bartender scurries off, and Donghae barely registers Heechul’s friend, who has his back turned to Donghae, apparently checking his phone.

“Heechul-hyung!” He shouts, slinging an arm around Heechul’s shoulders. “What’s going on, man? You ready for my creative input on your latest collection or what?”

Heechul snorts. “There you are, Lee Donghae. You finally get a night off from banging the latest cover model from Vogue?”

“That was two weeks ago!” Donghae smirks. He ignores Heechul’s pointed comment about matters of taste and refinement, focuses his attention on the other man at the bar. “Who’s the new guy? Is he cute?”

“My friend,” Heechul says warningly, “watch yourself.” 

The tone of his voice makes Donghae straighten up and pay attention. Heechul usually doesn’t care who Donghae hits on, much less who he takes home. He’s fucked quite a few of Heechul’s hangers-on as well, so why should it matter now?

“Dude.” He holds up his hands, “I just wanted to meet your new friend, OK? No funny business.” Besides, he’s got a date with a nice new boy from Busan after this; some kid who asked to come around to Donghae’s penthouse to get some tips about the music business. He’s got the best ass Donghae’s seen in a while, so Donghae wasn’t planning to spend too much time here tonight anyway.

Heechul eyes him warily again, the look in his eyes speaking volumes. “Sungmin-ah, come say hi to Donghae-ssi.”

The man turns around. Donghae hears himself suck in his breath without realising it. Sungmin’s hot. No, not just hot. Beautiful. He’s got perfectly pale skin and strikingly dark hair that is a touch too long and curls about his face, framing expressive brown eyes and gorgeously pouty lips that Donghae would love to feel against his. Sungmin is dressed simply in a dark wool suit and Donghae can’t help but notice the way it fits him perfectly, hugging his surprisingly luscious-looking body like it was made to measure.

Donghae can’t stop staring at Sungmin’s ass. Forget the guy from Busan, he thinks. What’s on offer here is much, much better. He imagines taking hold of those firm, round cheeks as he fucks Sungmin hard against the bar counter. Has to cover his mouth and cough loudly as lust hits him harder than he expects.

What the fuck. This guy is just some off-limits friend of Heechul’s. Donghae could get better ass at any one of the other nightclubs in Seoul.

Sungmin catches him looking, but says nothing. Instead he flicks an errant lock of hair behind his ear, sticks out his hand.

“Hi,” he says, flashing a pearly white smile. “Lee Sungmin. I know who you are, of course; I really enjoyed your last movie with Choi Siwon. I love those epic period dramas and your character’s death in the last scene was really touching.”

Donghae makes himself shake Sungmin’s hand, trying not to marvel at the firmness of Sungmin’s grip, or dwell too long on the mental image of Sungmin naked and writhing underneath him. “Um, thanks.” He decides to leave out the part where Choi was the pissiest little diva on set. “Have you been friends with Heechul long?”

“We grew up together,” Heechul cuts in. “Sungminnie used to come over to play when his mother worked late. I was just his glorified babysitter!”

“The fact that I always brought over the latest manga from the comic store has nothing to do with it, I’m sure,” Sungmin says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve only just moved to Seoul from Ilsan, so Heechul-ssi is helping me find my feet.”

“And showing off too, I bet,” Donghae smiles. He inches closer, on the pretence of trying to hear Sungmin better over the constant throb of music, so that he ends up with his shoulder pressing against Sungmin’s, his lips centimetres away from Sungmin’s ear. “What do you do, Sungmin?”

Sungmin regards him with a look of wry amusement, as if he suspects what Donghae is up to. It sends a shock of awareness up Donghae’s spine, turns into anticipation.

“I’m helping my dad run a new branch of his business here. We’re a small import/export setup, but we’ve decided to expand operations.”

“Right,” Donghae says, not much interested. It all sounds like Greek to him anyway. He leans closer, keeping an eye on Heechul, who’s on his phone and shrieking at some unfortunate underling. “Importing, huh? That’s really cool that you’re helping your dad out with stuff. Most of Heechul-hyung’s other friends are more concerned about which BMW to get, or whether they should holiday in the Seychelles or Paris during summer. You know, spoilt rich kids. So, can I get you anything?”

Sungmin’s answer surprises him. He laughs and covers his mouth, his eyes flashing with amusement. It’s not a reaction Donghae is used to, and he’s not sure that he likes it.

“A drink from Lee Donghae? I’m flattered, but no. You’ve got trouble written all over you.” He giggles again, much to Donghae’s annoyance. “Anyway, it’s no use asking me. I’ve got someone waiting at home. I only just came out because I left my car at the office and Heechul promised me a lift back later.”

“Girlfriend?” Donghae ventures.

“Boyfriend,” Sungmin replies, his tone light but firm. “He doesn’t try to pick up men he’s just met in bars.”

“Hey,” Donghae nudges Sungmin with his shoulder, the remark pricking him more than it should. “Don’t be like that, man. I just want to get you a drink, that’s all. ’S not a very nice thing to say to a guy who’s trying to be friendly.”

“Heechul-ssi’s already asked the bartender to get me one,” Sungmin reminds him. He turns around and leans with his back against the bar counter, and Donghae has to stop himself from looking down at Sungmin’s ass again. “Also, I know what you’re like, Lee Donghae. I’ve heard all the stories about you. Trust me when I say I’m not interested, OK? Weren’t you just dating someone a week or so ago?”

“Don’t believe everything you read in the tabloids!” 

“I heard from Heechul-ssi,” Sungmin says, favouring Donghae with an indulgent smile. It makes him want to slap Sungmin and then kiss him senseless. “I’m not your type. And I doubt you’re mine; I like my men a little less forward, and as I’ve already told you, I have a boyfriend.”

Donghae has to tell himself that he’s reacting the way he is because he’s tired and it’s been a long week of work; there’s no way some mouthy man with girly hair and sober workwear should be getting him this worked up. He’s dealt with rejection before, but Donghae prides himself on his persistence; every time someone says no, it just feels like a greater challenge. Sure, he’s lost out a few times, but those have been very few and far between.

Plus there is just something, something that he can’t work out about Sungmin. Something that makes him want to try harder than he has in a long time. It’s crazy, Donghae tells himself, just as he gets lost in those dark brown eyes again. It’s completely insane. He doesn’t know this guy from Adam, and he’s made himself a promise about getting involved with attached men again.

But he has to try. 

“You don’t even know my type, baby,” he tries. “I take all comers, provided they’re not covered in hair!”

Sungmin glances at him and giggles again, high-pitched and infectious. They bask in the shared joke for a moment or two, and then Donghae tries again.

“Come on, man. Heechul’s got you some fancy glass of wine from France. Why not some soju instead? Or you can come back to mine… My manager just sent over some good stuff from Spain. And I’ve got a car too, I can take you home.”

Almost immediately, Sungmin’s expression becomes more guarded. He shifts away from Donghae.

“I’ve already said no, Donghae-ssi.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like hearing the word,” Donghae tries another tactic. He stares right into Sungmin’s eyes and tries to inject his words with as much false sincerity as he can. It usually works on everyone from naive young twinks to middle-aged bankers and everyone in between. It’s his sure-fire move, and it’s never failed once. “Come on, Sungmin-ah…”

Until tonight. Because he looks at Sungmin and suddenly all his clever lines seem to dry up in his mouth and choke him. Sungmin looks like a sullen angel in the flashing half-light of the bar, his full lips red and inviting. His eyes look old and tired, sitting incongruously in his beautiful face, but it makes him all the more enticing, and Donghae feels himself being drawn dangerously under by the wave of yearning that sweeps over him.

Donghae isn’t intellectual. He’s never had a knack for literature or art, or anything that involved looking deep into himself to find some kind of inspiration. All his songs are written by songwriters paid for by his management company. He’s never really experienced heartbreak or loss, apart from his father’s death, which happened so long ago but which he still remembers with a twinge of pain. Everything he’s wanted, he eventually has had, whether through hard work, or sheer good fortune. He’s never had anything too far out of his reach.

This time is different. Donghae can’t explain why he feels like he needs Sungmin to say yes. To come home with him. Hell, they don’t even need to fuck tonight. He could just stay… and they could talk. Or kiss. Or … well. Fuck. He really, really wants to fuck Sungmin. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t been laid in at least a week. 

They look away. Donghae forgets what he was going to say, too conscious of Sungmin’s presence and his total absence of appropriate words to persuade. The silence between them lengthens, thickens.

“You don’t want me, Lee Donghae,” Sungmin says, after the bartender finally returns and sets a large glass of red wine before him. “I’m too boring for you. You’d probably get tired of me after five minutes in my company.”

Donghae wants to say he doubts it, but watches in silence as Sungmin’s lips purse and he drinks a mouthful of wine, savouring it for a moment before swallowing, a drop of red liquid hanging onto the curve of his bottom lip.

Unable to help himself, Donghae reaches out and smudges his thumb against Sungmin’s lip, wiping the droplet away. Sungmin’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t do anything to push him away. Donghae sucks a breath in as Sungmin’s teeth catch hold of his thumb, and his tongue presses against the tip.

Fuck. Tension winds itself around Donghae’s chest, so tight he can barely breathe. He presses down, leans in close — too close — to Sungmin, wants to replace his thumb with his lips and tongue. He can’t take his eyes off Sungmin’s mouth; it would tempt a saint to sin, he thinks, and Donghae isn’t saintly at all. Not even a little. Desire knifes at his insides; he doesn’t think he’s wanted to kiss anyone as he wants to kiss Sungmin right here, right now.

“Please.” He murmurs, watching Sungmin’s eyes darken. “Please. I don’t know — I want…”

Sungmin leans closer, and his eyes flicker shut.

“Bunch of fucking losers!” Heechul’s voice cuts through the moment, disintegrating it like dew in the morning sun. “Minnie-ah, I’m sorry, we’re going to have to go. Fucking cheap couriers I got managed to lose the samples which were meant to go to the tailor. Seasoning’s furious, I’m at my fucking wit’s end. I’ll send you back before I go into the office.”

Wordlessly, Sungmin brushes off Donghae’s hand before Heechul gets closer, then stands up. He won’t meet Donghae’s eyes.

“Sungmin —” Donghae starts. His head is too clouded with lust and confusion and deep, desperate need. “Wait. Stay.”

Heechul is making another phone call, waving his arms in the air. He’s called for the bill and pays it with a wad of money before beckoning Sungmin over, already halfway up the stairs. Donghae reaches out for Sungmin, but the other man shakes his hand off.

“No. I can’t.” His voice sounds pleading. “I’ve got someone already, Lee Donghae. He’s a good man. And you…” Their eyes meet again, and Donghae feels the spark of attraction between them, already dangerously lit, before Sungmin looks away again. “You’d be so bad for me.”

Before Donghae can say anything else, Sungmin pulls away again, rushes out the door after Heechul.

Donghae goes back to his penthouse soon after. The boy from Busan has been waiting for an hour. He fucks him against the kitchen counter and doesn’t remember the boy’s name after he leaves.

All he can picture is the look on Sungmin’s face, just before he left the club.

This is bad, he thinks. This is too dangerous. There are plenty of other willing, free men and women out in the city who would fight to share his bed. He’s going to forget about Heechul’s friend. Forget tonight ever happened. The next time he goes to the club, he’s going to fuck the next available boy he finds there. Lee Donghae does not go mooning after guys he’s known for less than an hour. Not even if they look like Sungmin. He repeats it to himself the next morning as he jerks off in the shower, feels resolution fill him even as he watches his seed flow down the drain hole. He doesn’t need more entanglements.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Donghae sees Sungmin, it’s nearly two months after their first meeting at The Venture Club. They’ve both returned for Heechul’s party to celebrate the launch of yet another wildly successful collection for his menswear line; Sungmin has brought his boyfriend, and Donghae’s turned up with his latest conquest, the young son of a wealthy businessman who specialises in importing cabbage for kimchi. Donghae’s date isn’t very interesting, but he has the advantage of not being too demanding either. Really, all Donghae needs for these events is someone to have on his arm so that the paparazzi don’t start trying to pair him up with any star who just happens to be single.

Donghae thinks he should be congratulated on even being able to turn up at all; promotions for his single have just started, as have rehearsals for his tour. He barely gets five hours of sleep most nights. Heechul’s parties, though, are legendary. There is no way in hell he’s missing a perfect chance to get really drunk without having to worry that he’s going to be presented with a huge cleanup bill in the morning.

“Hey, Donghae!” Heechul’s business partner beckons him over as soon as they step into the club, which is packed with Heechul’s friends and family and a dozen fashion reporters. “There you are! Thought you weren’t going to turn up. We were just going to start doing shots, you want in?”

“Why not!” Donghae laughs. He likes Zhou Mi, whose wide smiles can make the saddest bastard feel a bit better about their shitty life. “Congratulations on the collection, by the way. Heechul-ssi says you guys were working really hard up to the last minute to get it out on time.”

“Tell me about it,” Zhou Mi says, rolling his eyes. “Fashion Week is a fucking nightmare. The circles under my eyes are permanently painted on now, my assistant wants to sue me for making him work as late as I do, and Heechul’s in full diva mode because he thinks he’s pulled it off all on his own again. Drives me crazy; I have no idea why I’m still sticking around here and not going back to China. Anyway, we’ve got to get you into the office one of these days for that dinky capsule collection your manager keeps bugging me about.”

“No problem.” Though he doesn’t like to admit it, Donghae has barely any idea about what he’d like to do for this collaboration. Maybe he’ll just let Zhou Mi do most of the design work and sketch out some ideas for good shoes. 

His date mutters something about Donghae’s drinking habits and slinks away. Not that Donghae really cares. He’s reaching across the bar as the bartender slides the first round of vodka shots over, laughing at an anecdote Zhou Mi’s telling him. Something about Heechul getting into another shouting match with the Fashion Week organisers because they didn’t have enough pink organza lining the runway at the label’s haute couture show.

Someone pushes their way to the bar, knocking against Donghae and making him spill half the contents of his shot glass onto the tacky counter-top. He spins around, all annoyance, ready to give the prick a piece of his mind. Never mind that the club is so full everyone’s pushed into someone else’s private space; it’s unforgivable to make a man spill his drink.

“Jesus. Watch it, man!”

The words are out of his mouth before Donghae realises who he’s talking to. Sungmin stares back at him, lips parted in surprise. Unlike Donghae, who just flung on any old designer t-shirt and jeans tonight, Sungmin is dressed simply but elegantly in a crisp pale pink shirt over black slacks. His hair has been cut and styled so he looks even younger than he did the first time they met.

His eyes are the same, though. Donghae recognises the same air of weariness in them. He’s not going to lie and pretend that he hasn’t been thinking of Sungmin over the last few months, because it’s been impossible not to. Donghae can still picture the stricken look on Sungmin’s face just as he fled the bar the last time, but he prides himself that he hasn’t had the time to obsess over and analyse every last detail of their meeting. Not really.

Because Sungmin was right; they aren’t each other’s type at all. Not even remotely. They would get on each others nerves all the time, since Sungmin’s a good little daddy’s boy, and Donghae is a free spirit. Something along those lines anyway.

Faced with the person in question, though, Donghae feels his resolve begin to falter a little. Sungmin tries a smile.

“Um, hi. Sorry about the drink, Donghae-ssi.” His smile, Donghae notices, doesn’t quite reach Sungmin’s eyes. They look wary, guarded and closed-off. Donghae feels something twist inside him. “Can I get you another glass to make up for it?”

“Don’t bother,” Donghae replies. “Zhou Mi’s probably rolling in money after that last show. I heard he’s got buyers from the major American boutiques just lining up for this collection, so he can afford to buy me another round.”

Zhou Mi is in the middle of another conversation, but he hears this remark and snorts. “You’d be so lucky, Donghae-ssi. Why don’t you buy me a round after your single goes platinum for the seventy-seventh time, huh?”

“Get fucked, Mi.” 

They laugh and Zhou Mi turns his attention back to the businessman he’s been chatting to. That leaves Sungmin and Donghae alone again. Determined not be caught on the back foot, Donghae decides to take the initiative.

“So, can I buy you that drink you refused last time?”

Sungmin opens his mouth, but Donghae blunders on before he has the chance to refuse.

“Seeing as how you’ve spilt my drink and all, I think you’re morally obliged to indulge me. Just this once.”

Sungmin narrows his eyes. Donghae stares back at him with a brazen arrogance that he doesn’t quite feel.

“Hey, man. I’m here with someone as well, OK? He’s a nice kid and I’m planning on leaving with him tonight, so I promise there’s not going to be any dodgy dealings on my part. It’s just me trying to be friendly, I swear.”

It looks as though Sungmin would like to dispute that claim, but he shrugs his shoulders instead, looking resigned. Donghae thinks the gesture looks a touch too familiar to someone so young. 

“Fine,” Sungmin says. “I’ll have whatever you’re getting.”

Wordlessly, Donghae waves the bartender over and orders another round of shots, substituting vodka for ouzo.

“It’s nice to try something new, once in a while.” He explains, when Sungmin throws him a questioning look. “Besides, I think you should never be afraid of the unknown. It makes your life more interesting when you can’t predict what will happen in the next forty-eight hours.”

“Do you really believe that?” Sungmin asks, “Or is that something you try and use to pick up people who don’t know any better?”

“Neither.” The shots arrive and Donghae knocks his back, feeling the harsh burn of the alcohol scorch his throat. Jungsoo will kill him if he turns up at his next variety show taping with no voice, but the show’s only being taped in the afternoon, so Donghae figures he should indulge. Also, he needs the liquid courage. If he’s learnt anything from last time, it’s that Sungmin’s line of questioning is unnerving and he has a knack of detecting the many layers of bullshit Donghae throws at his potential conquests. “Both. I say it so often I end up believing myself sometimes. People tell me that they like that I’m spontaneous. Does that help?”

“Knowing that you can’t be honest with yourself?” The corner of Sungmin’s lip curls in a wry smirk. He downs his shot and pauses for a moment as the alcohol slides down his throat, then sets the glass down. His cheeks are flushed already. “I’m not sure.”

“Hey.” Irritation rears its head and Donghae finds himself crowding Sungmin; Sungmin’s sitting on a stylish barstool that looks like the fingers of an upturned hand, so Donghae finds it easy to loom over him. “What the fuck, man? I just bought you a fucking drink —”

“Which was accepted only under duress,” Sungmin reminds him, staring back at Donghae. His gaze is level, but there is a glint of challenge in his eyes. “What, you don’t like it when people see through the crap you spin?” 

He’s wearing this smug little grin, and Donghae wants to throttle Sungmin. This was supposed to be a party, not some moral ninth-degree about his life choices. In any case, who gives a shit? The tabloids call him worse things any day of the week. Why is he getting riled up by this staid salaryman?

“I’m no angel, Lee Sungmin,” he bites out. “But I don’t pretend to be. So why don’t you run back to your boyfriend if I offend you so much, huh? I was trying to be nice just now. Guess I won’t be making that mistake with you again.”

Sungmin holds his angry stare, his chin lifted defensively.

“You said you wanted to take me home the last time we were here, Donghae-ssi. But all I see is you stamping your feet and being rude because I pointed out what everyone here already knows. If I’d come back with you that night, you would’ve dropped me as soon as the next attractive shiny thing caught your attention. I don’t play that way.”

“And what does everybody know?” Donghae asks, his voice soft. He can’t stop looking in Sungmin’s eyes. The other man isn’t afraid, or intimidated. Oh, no. But he’s hiding something as well. Donghae is determined not to let this go, not after he’s been told that he’s basically full of shit.

“You’ll never be satisfied with anything.” Sungmin’s gaze drifts over Donghae, fixes on some point behind him. “You’ve got this look on your face. Like you know everything is open and available to you, so you take anything people offer up. And you keep on taking because you can’t say no. But you’re not happy, not deep down. Maybe you don’t realise it yet, because the world you live in is so blinding. So unreal. That’s your problem; you can’t stop because you’re afraid that if you do, you’ll understand that you’re looking to plug a gap in your life that you never even knew you had.”

“What the shit,” Donghae sniffs. He’s not sure where that tirade came from, and he’s even less sure that he likes that Sungmin seems to have cut to the core of his personality. “Are you going to tell me about how finding Jesus Christ will make my life so much better, or some crap like that?”

“No,” Sungmin gets up from his seat. His fingers, Donghae notices, are trembling. “I’m not that pious. I thought I’d just let you know why I think it would be bad for me to know you. Now, I better go find my boyfriend. You should find that date of yours, I’m sure he’d appreciate the attention more than me. Thanks for the drink.”

He’s about to go, but Donghae feels a panic rising in him. He can’t let Sungmin out of his sight. Not when he’s got a question right on the tip of his tongue. Sungmin can’t go; not like this. Fuck everything else; he wants Sungmin so badly it’s making him act like some besotted teenager.

“What about you, Sungmin-ssi? Have you found the right person to make you stop looking?”

For a moment, Sungmin doesn’t say anything. Then, amazingly, a look of pure confusion crosses his face. Before Donghae can say anything, it is gone, and he sits back down heavily.

“The guy I’m with right now, you mean? He’s… stable. And kind. He’s good to me and my family likes him. I can’t really ask for much more.”

That doesn’t quite answer Donghae’s question. Sungmin looks up at him again.

“People with real lives like me, we don’t get to go around sleeping with people to see if they’re The One or not. We have to live with the best we can get. And he’s the best I’ve found.”

Sungmin looks over at a gaggle of young businessmen crowded together at the other end of the bar. They seem to be in the middle of swapping stories and laughing at each other’s jokes. Donghae wandered past them earlier on; he remembers the snatches of chatter he caught being related chiefly to financial matters and stock-market analyses. More boring than trying to work out whether wearing a red or a blue tie to a movie premiere really makes that much of a difference.

One of the group sees Sungmin looking over and raises his glass, a wide smile on his face. You OK?

A toothy grin on his face, Sungmin nods and gives a thumbs-up.

Love you. The man mouths back. He’s pleasant-looking enough; his features are a slightly less perfect copy of a drama idol’s and he’s got big round eyes. He’s dressed in a pinstripe suit and tie, every inch the stable working professional mothers all over the country would love to have at their dinner table. 

Donghae has to bite back a sudden surge of jealousy.

“That him?” He asks Sungmin, unnecessarily. “He looks nice.” Donghae says nice, because that’s all he can think of. ‘Boring’ is closer to the truth, though. “Where did you meet?”

“At my dad’s office. He was an intern.” Sungmin looks suspicious of where Donghae’s going with this, but continues anyway, “He’s younger than me, and I was helping out over the holidays while I was home from college. He asked me out about a month after he started working with us. We’ve been together for three years now.”

“Uh huh. He looks like a good, solid catch.” Donghae watches until Sungmin’s boyfriend turns back to his buddies. “So, why are you still here with me? All the numbers talk gave you a headache? You thought you might do better with me?”

“Don’t.” Sungmin’s voice is clipped. “I told you that I wasn’t your type the first we met. I’m seeing someone. Why don’t you understand?”

Donghae snorts. “You keep saying that I wouldn’t like you. I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what I do and don’t like, Sungmin-ssi. These sorts of judgements, I like to make for myself.”

Sungmin bites his lip, and Donghae can’t look away. “Look. I have — ”

“A boyfriend,” Donghae leans closer. “I know. You keep saying. But you’re still here. Of course, I wouldn’t want to stop you from going back to him and the banker squad over there.”

He steps back, giving Sungmin enough room to leave. Donghae’s heart is in his throat. For some inexplicable reason, he can feel himself being drawn to Sungmin again. He knows, of course, about the risks of hitting on someone with their partner barely ten feet away. It’s dangerous, and Sungmin keeps telling him he isn’t interested.

Actually. Sungmin hasn’t said that he wasn’t interested… Just that he didn’t think Donghae was good for him (whatever that means).

“I’m not going to force you, man,” Donghae says, greatly daring. “But I’m not going to lie to you; I want you. When I saw you standing here, I knew I wanted you. I don’t know why; everything you’ve said has got me convinced you’re bad news. So, you could do us both a favour; go back and be good to your perfect boyfriend…”

“Or?” Sungmin’s eyes are very wide. Donghae licks his lips, trying to find the words.

“Or stay. For just five minutes.” Donghae wants to reach out and grab Sungmin’s hand, but it looks as though Sungmin might bolt at any second. “Dance with me. One dance.”

The usual assortment of plush chairs and low coffee tables that usually take up most of the space in the front part of the club’s foyer have been removed for this special occasion, even though the club enforces a strict no dancing policy, no doubt because Heechul probably promised the general manager a specially tailored suit or something. There’s already a gaggle of well-dressed revellers grinding to the music, and an equally hip DJ spinning some bass-heavy house track.

“I haven’t danced for a while,” Sungmin says, getting up slowly. He darts another look at his boyfriend’s group again. They’re still trading jokes, and Sungmin’s boyfriend looks like he’s in the middle of telling some great story, his hands waving around in the air. Donghae thinks he’s an asshole. Partly because the guy is going to get to go home with Sungmin at the end of the night. Still, Sungmin doesn’t run away, which is a good sign. “One dance, Donghae-ssi. You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit out of practise.”

They walk out to the dance floor. Donghae scans the crowd for his date, but doesn’t find him. Maybe the boy’s gone home with someone else; Donghae really doesn’t care at this point.

The DJ sees Donghae, and tipping him a knowing wink, starts playing a remixed version of Donghae’s latest single. It starts off slow and stripped down, just Donghae’s vocals and an accompanying guitar.

“Did you plan this?” Sungmin asks, looking scandalised.

“No!” Donghae has to shout over the noise. The crowd around him buzzes with appreciation; it seems no one else but the DJ has noticed him. “I swear to God, that guy probably thinks he’s being clever, that’s all. Come on, I’m not that much of a narcissist. Not at Heechul’s parties anyway. You know he’d have my head.”

This last remark provokes a laugh from Sungmin. The song picks up its tempo, and Donghae hears himself singing about lost love and a woman with eyes like sea glass and long blonde hair. He winces; the song was originally for an Irish group, but had been brought over to Korea when his manager happened to hear a demo version. It has to be the least appropriate track to play right now.

The lyrics don’t make much sense, but Donghae starts dancing to the rhythm anyway, figuring he might as well try and make an effort. After a moment of uncertainty, Sungmin starts bopping along too. He was right about not having danced for a while; he misses the beat the first few times and has to pause every now and again, but his hips move easily and after a while, he looks like he’s having fun, smiling widely at Donghae, his face alight with pleasure. It makes Donghae’s insides twist with desire.

“You confuse me,” Donghae tells him, leaning in close so Sungmin can hear him as they move together to the beat. The crowd has closed in, hiding them from the eyes of Sungmin’s boyfriend. Donghae might have planned for that to happen. He’s spontaneous like that.

“Why?” Sungmin asks. He doesn’t push Donghae away, but Donghae is aware that the song will soon come to an end. He recognises the hitch in the recording; it’s when he gathers up enough breath for a long vibrato wail all the fans seem to go crazy for.

“You keep saying you’re not my type.” Donghae leans back so he can see Sungmin’s eyes in the half-light. The music swells around them. “Who are you trying to convince, Sungmin-ah? Me? Or yourself?”

Sungmin’s eyes flash. His smile grows shy. Donghae realises that Sungmin’s cheeks are stained red from the ouzo. “Both.” He says. The crowd pushes them closer together. “Neither.”

The music reaches a deafening crescendo; too many violins and a harpsichord and Donghae’s voice creating a discordant wave of sound that deafens before it ends suddenly. They end up facing each other, uncertain of themselves.

“That’s not much of an answer,” Donghae says in the silence. Sungmin shrugs.

“I should get back. We’re probably going to go soon; some of us have work tomorrow. Thanks for the drink, Donghae-ssi. And the dance. Maybe I’ll catch you around sometime soon. We can be friends, can’t we? Even if you probably think I’m the dullest person you’ve ever met?”

No. Donghae is not going to let him go, because Sungmin is so far from being the nerd he insists he is and because he doesn’t want Sungmin out of his sight for even five seconds now.

“Don’t leave,” he pleads. “You can’t just turn up tonight, tell me how much of an asshole I am, dance with me and then go. It doesn’t work like that. That’s not fair.”

Another song has started up again, a slower, down-tempo RnB number. The bass line throbs and a husky-voiced vocalist sings about sex and the depths of desire. Donghae doesn’t think this time. He just acts on instinct. Reaching out, he grasps hold of Sungmin’s hand (Sungmin’s fingers are so cold), and leads him deeper into the mass of people, away from Sungmin’s perfect boyfriend and neatly ordered life.

“Donghae…” He can hear Sungmin calling, but the other man isn’t exactly struggling to get free. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving you an alternative to Stepford,” Donghae mutters, not that Sungmin can hear him over the music. Donghae knows this club intimately, every secret nook and alcove. Some dancers gasp when he walks past, but Donghae ignores them and pushes onwards until he finds what he’s looking for; a small booth set into the wall furthest away from the bar. He slides onto one smooth wooden bench and pulls Sungmin alongside him.

Sungmin looks apprehensive, angry, confused. He pulls his hand free.

“What are you thinking?? I agree to one dance, and now —”

“Shut up,” Donghae covers Sungmin’s beautiful mouth with his hand. “Just shut up for a minute.”

Sungmin stares back at him, hard and accusing. Chastened, Donghae takes his hand away.

“Look. I’m shit at trying to sound clever, all right? I know all the lines to pick up people at bars, not how to talk about my existential shortcomings. Other people write lyrics to my music for me because I can’t look inside my heart to find the meaning of life. Crap like that.” He takes a deep breath. “So I’m not going to tell you that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, even though it’s true, because you don’t do all the cliched stuff. You can tell I’m talking out of my ass most of the time. I won’t say that I don’t. And you have a perfect fucking life, Lee Sungmin, OK? Maybe I’m a bit jealous of that. Hell, anyone here would be. But maybe I think you can do better than Mr Perfect.”

“So you’re volunteering yourself?” Sungmin asks, incredulous. “That man over there cares about me, Donghae. What’s to say you won’t get tired of me if I give in, when the thrill of chasing after me is gone?”

“What’s to say you shouldn’t take a chance and believe me?” Donghae counters. “If you’re so happy with him, then why are you still here?”

Donghae doesn’t give Sungmin a chance to answer. He leans in and presses a soft, gentle kiss against those red, full lips. Half-expects to be punched in the face.

He isn’t. But Sungmin doesn’t react at first, and Donghae begins to pull away before he feels Sungmin’s mouth open against his. At the start, the kiss is gentle, exploring, as if they’re still testing each other’s boundaries. Donghae’s head is buzzing; he can’t quite believe this is happening. 

Then Sungmin moans, and Donghae can’t help himself; he leans closer, frames Sungmin’s face with his hands and sweeps his tongue into Sungmin’s mouth. The kiss quickly turns deeper, more passionate. Their tongues slide together, and Donghae feels as though nothing else he’s experienced before could ever come close to the perfection that is Sungmin’s hot, open-mouthed kisses as they bite and lick at each other. He moves his hands down, settles them on Sungmin’s hips and pulls him closer, careless of the expensive material of Sungmin’s shirt and trousers.

Sungmin growls, and before Donghae knows it, he is being pushed up against the wall, with Sungmin half-straddling his thigh. He can feel the heat of Sungmin’s cock pressed into his leg, and the thrill of lust it sends through his body is dizzying.

“Oh, God. Sungminnie…”

They break for air, and Sungmin rests his head against Donghae’s for a moment, his breathing rapid, the colour in his cheeks even more intense, his lips red and swollen.

Donghae wants him more than anything in the world right now. He reaches out and strokes his hand down the side of Sungmin’s thigh.

The moment he makes contact, Sungmin seems to snap out of a trance. Looks down at their positions, horrified. He pushes himself off Donghae, brushes down his hair with trembling hands.

“Shit. Shit shit shit. I need to go.”

“No,” the haze of desire is slow to clear, but Donghae feels a familiar panic rise in his chest. “Don’t — Sungmin. Min. Just — just stay with me. Please. You can’t go back.”

“I have to,” Sungmin sounds so anguished. It confuses Donghae even more. “You… I told you that you were bad for me, Donghae. Oh God. What if he saw?”

“He didn’t,” Donghae says, reaching out. “Don’t be like this…”

He catches Sungmin’s sleeve. “Don’t you think you deserve more than him?”

“Please,” Sungmin sounds broken. He avoids Donghae’s gaze. “Leave me alone. You — you wouldn’t understand; I don’t want to screw up everything I’ve worked so hard to build. I have more to lose than you.”

He’s gone before Donghae can stop him again, pushing his way back through the crowd.

Donghae doesn’t understand why his chest feels so tight, or why he feels like his world has suddenly come crashing down around him. He sits and stares at the mass of bodies on the dance floor, his erection quickly fading, until lust is replaced by confusion and a deeper sense of loss.

His date eventually makes an appearance, stoned out of his mind and his breath soused in alcohol. At any other time, Donghae wouldn’t have minded; the boy is a pretty good lay, and sex is sex, but Donghae can’t get Sungmin out of his mind. It’s even worse than the last time, he thinks, as he drops the boy home. His heart feels heavy in his chest when he arrives back at his penthouse, much earlier than he expected to return; it’s barely after one o’clock. Donghae isn’t tired, but he feels lost, unsure of himself and what to do. He wanders over to his well-stocked private bar and pours himself a stiff measure of whiskey before flopping down on his barely-used leather sofa. Gulps down the first mouthful without thinking and winces as it burns its way down his throat.

Over and over again he repeats Sungmin’s words to himself, trying to piece together at what point in the evening he’d stopped being an annoying moraliser and turned into someone Donghae would happily give up his recording contract for. 

(Not that he’s actually contemplating leaving the music business. But it’s the best metaphor Donghae can come up with right now.)

After all his other lovers who’ve come and gone, Donghae supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that someone would actually tell him no and mean it. Mostly. Really, though, Sungmin is the antithesis of everything Donghae looks for in a partner; mouthy, too damn smart for his own good, down to earth, uninterested in the bullshit reality of show business. He’s helping to run his father’s company, for God’s sake. That speaks of complete familial devotion and a good head for business. None of which Donghae has even the remotest interest in.

That’s all very well and good when Donghae tries to think about things logically. But there’s something about Sungmin that makes logic fly out the window. It doesn’t help that he looks like sin — all pale, delectable curves and thick dark black hair that Donghae wants to run his fingers through — or that Sungmin has a voice that manages to sound simultaneously coquettish and confidently authoritative. 

Those lips, too. God. Donghae has another hit of whiskey. Digs the heel of his hand into the bulge his erection makes through his jeans. He tries not to think about Sungmin down on his knees with his lips wrapped around Donghae’s cock and fails completely. Then Donghae thinks about waking up next to Sungmin and seeing that wide, expressive smile first thing in the morning, when half the world is still asleep. He imagines Sungmin’s laughter. The way Sungmin would feel pressed up against him, his skin still warm from sleep. 

Donghae thinks about telling Sungmin all the secrets that he can remember, and some that he prefers to forget. He imagines telling Sungmin about how his father never really approved of his career choices and refused to let him have enough money to travel to Seoul, despite the management company volunteering to provide Donghae with a contract as soon as he turned up in the city. He wants to tell Sungmin about the year and a half spent working in sleazy bars back in Mokpo, entertaining sailors and fishermen. How they would grope him when he brought them their drinks, and how he’d had to stand the grasping fingers just to make enough money to buy his way out of his own hometown. How his father had died from the tumour in his stomach, just before Donghae got home with his first paycheque, ready to say he was sorry about the way things ended. 

So many stories to tell. Donghae takes another long pull of whiskey and gazes out at the sleeping city below him. Somewhere out there, Sungmin is curled up next to his amazingly bland boyfriend, who deals with stock-market figures and private equity trades. He probably has no secrets to share, because his whole life would probably be a fucking open book. He wonders what Sungmin would do with his secrets, what he’d tell Donghae in return.

Donghae wonders about the weariness in Sungmin’s eyes as he sips at his tumbler. Remembers the resignation and the fury; he wonders what sort of stories Sungmin keeps to himself. If he were Sungmin’s oh so wonderful boyfriend (which he isn’t, but still), he’d go about the whole business delicately, of course. But he’d still want Sungmin to just talk about things, not bottle them up inside. If it were him, he thinks he would coax the truth out of Sungmin whilst they were still in bed, and the day was yet to begin. They wouldn’t have to screw; just hold each other until Sungmin felt like his heart was properly thawed out enough to start telling his stories.

It’s such a bad idea, falling in love. Donghae’s managed to avoid it most of his life. But as he finishes his whiskey and leans his head back, the memory of Sungmin’s struggle just now with his sense of propriety and their mutual attraction fills his mind. Donghae is unprepared for the sudden wave of emotion that overcomes him. 

He needs to see Sungmin again. More than that, he needs Sungmin in his life. They’re both broken, though in different ways; Donghae’s flaws lie all on the surface, where he turns them into strengths and shows them off for the rest of the world. Sungmin’s are hidden so deeply inside himself Donghae is amazed he’s managed to notice anything at all. They would fit together so easily, or they could tear each other apart. But he needs Sungmin. The realisation of it blindsides him. Donghae doesn’t like feeling this helpless. He likes being made helpless because of his feelings for some guy he’s only met twice even less. But his heart has never been fond of paying attention to silly things like logic and reason.

This is when Donghae realises he’s fallen in love with Sungmin. And that he has no way of contacting him.

He’s going to have to go through Heechul to get Sungmin’s number. The thought does not fill Donghae with particular confidence. But then again, Donghae’s never been one to refuse a challenge.

Some things are worth a leap of faith, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Even though Donghae is prepared for Heechul’s reluctance to hand over Sungmin’s phone number, he’s still struck by just how protective of Sungmin his friend is.

“No. You’re out of your fucking mind,” Heechul tells him the first time Donghae calls, two weeks after the party. He sounds busy, and perhaps that’s only natural, since Donghae called him in the middle of his lunch break, in between rehearsing the new dance routine he’s going to take on tour. Donghae would have waited till a more appropriate time, until he realised that the way both their schedules are, and given everything that happened at the party, there really isn’t an appropriate time at all. “I saw how he was when he left the club that night. The boy doesn’t freak out easily. At least not these days. But you managed to rile him up pretty good, Donghae-ah. And I know it was you, because you’ve been making eyes at him since your first meeting. Don’t think I didn’t notice.You’re lucky that handsome boyfriend of his was so oblivious that he didn’t notice how Min was on the verge of having a proper breakdown. What monumentally stupid thing did you say this time??”

Guilt stabs at Donghae. Sungmin has always appeared so solid and rooted in his own good common sense and perfect life that it’s hard to imagine that he’d be prone to meltdowns.

“Me? All I did was buy him a drink and ask him for one dance.” He tries to keep the wounded note out of his voice. He also makes a note not to tell Heechul that they ended up with their tongues in each other’s mouths. Again, it doesn’t seem like the most appropriate moment to mention such things. “Maybe you should ask him yourself!”

“I did, you idiot.” Heechul snarls, “And he just clammed up. Said he didn’t want to discuss it. He won’t even admit that it was you he was talking to. Just told me some bullshit story about being really stressed at work now he’s in charge of the new branch office here. I mean, his father is a nut job, but I could tell that wasn’t the real reason. One of you really owes me an explanation. Also, I cannot believe that date you brought with you. Doesn’t even look like he can tie his own shoelaces without a servant around. Talk about young, dumb and full of c—”

“Look,” Donghae says, before Heechul can segue into another one of his rants. “I’m not saying I’ve been exactly clever about this whole thing …”

“Correct.” 

“Whatever. Asshole. Anyway, you’re right, hung.” Whatever he needs to say to make Heechul hand that number over. Even if it makes Donghae swallow his pride and pretend that Heechul was right in his assessment. “I did kind of screw things up with Sungmin-ssi. Maybe I said a few things that he shouldn’t have had to hear, and it’s totally understandable if he’s pissed off about it. At least let me have the chance to say sorry to him properly.”

There is a pause on the other end of the line. Donghae looks at his reflection; he’s still in the studio he was practising his dance routine in earlier, and even though everyone else has gone out in search of lunch, he’s still here, trying to worm his way into Heechul’s phone contact list. If this doesn’t work, he supposes he could always try Zhou Mi, and failing that, there is the internet — 

“I don’t get it, man.” Heechul’s voice drops slightly. “Since when did either of you think it would be a good idea to get tangled up with each other, huh? Didn’t I tell you this one was off limits?”

“Yeah,” Donghae winces. “He said that, too. Made it quite clear, actually. But I kept pushing, and I guess I pushed him a bit further than I should have.”

A snort.

“That definitely sounds like you, Donghae-ah. So why should I give you my childhood friend’s phone number, when it sounds as though you two had a complete train wreck of an evening? I thought you weren’t going to try it on with guys who had partners again. Not after the last one.” 

Donghae doesn’t like to think about his previous relationships, but he remembers the one Heechul is talking about. It had been with an insurance broker who was unsatisfied with his wife and child, and Donghae had quickly come to understand that he was being used as some sort of prop in the power play between husband and wife. And if there’s one thing Donghae doesn’t do, it’s being used by other people. That guy had got the boot pretty damn fast.

He thinks about Sungmin again. Thinks about smiles and secrets and cold mornings with the two of them pressed up against each other.

“I dunno, hyung,” he admits, pride stinging. “It doesn’t make much sense to me either, but I just… I don’t understand why I feel the way I do. You can get mad at me later; I promise I’ll just sit quietly and take all your ‘I told you so’ scoldings. Hell, you can even tell Sungmin to block my number after the first time I call, if things don’t work out well. But I need to talk to him, OK? And it’s not like I can go stalk him outside his office right now. So just let me try it, just this once. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Except my friendship with the boy.” Heechul sounds tired; Donghae is reminded of the sunglasses Heechul wore at the party a few days ago. He understands they were to cover up the dark circles ringing Heechul’s eyes. “He’ll probably never forgive me.”

“Come on,” Donghae whines, feeling the opportunity slip away even as he’s standing there. “If I’ve ever done any favours for you, would you please let me cash them in, just this once?”

“You’re crazy,” Heechul tells him. “You know there are hundreds, if not thousands of men and women who’d dearly love you to come chase after them as much as you’re doing right now. Wouldn’t they be less complicated? Can’t you think of me, caught in the middle of all this??”

“I’m sorry to leave you in such an awkward position,” Donghae mutters. “But help me take this leap of faith, all right? If I fail, and I probably will, then you can call me an idiot.”

“I call you an idiot every single day you don’t spend working on this damn capsule collection you’re supposed to be designing! Fine. If you’re serious about Min, I’ll give you his number, but I’m going to send him yours as well, just so he can block you if he doesn’t want you bothering him. Don’t blame me when it all blows up in your face, Hae.”

“I won’t! I won’t, I won’t.” Donghae tries not to screech too loudly. “Thank you, hyung!”

“Scream a little louder, I don’t think the whole of Seoul heard you, Hae-ah. Never seen you like this; are you in love with Minnie or something?” Heechul asks, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” Donghae replies, truthfully. “All I can say is, he makes me want to stop looking around. That sounds cheesy as hell, doesn’t it?”

“A little,” Heechul says. Donghae can hear voices in the background. “Yah! Five minutes! I said I was on a call you assholes! Hae, do whatever you want to do, but if you think I’m going to stand back and let you play with Minnie’s feelings just because you’re bored, I will kill you, cut your heart out and eat it. Raw.”

“Uh,” Donghae doesn’t quite know how to take that. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

Heechul swears at him and hangs up. A little later a text with Sungmin’s number comes through, complete with a detailed description of what Heechul will do if Donghae manages to screw things up again. It doesn’t make very reassuring reading, but Donghae tries not to think about it too much.

Better to stay positive about things, he figures.

He waits until he’s finally finished rehearsing for the day before dialling Sungmin’s number. Donghae takes his time about it; he has a hot shower to soothe his aching muscles, then heats up some leftover bibimbap his housekeeper left for him in the fridge. Washes it down with a cold glass of beer while the lights of the city cast strange shadows on the floor of his apartment.

He stalls for a long moment after that, watching the news on TV (something he almost never does, he realises with a start) and then washing the dishes with deliberate care. Only after checking his e-mails and replying to one of Jungsoo’s many texts about possible interviews does Donghae settle on his sofa, pick up his phone and actually call Sungmin.

The phone rings once, twice, and then keeps on ringing for a long time, and Donghae’s scared Sungmin won’t answer. It’s nearly eleven; maybe Sungmin sleeps early? Maybe he’s having hot, kinky sex with his boyfriend, who must be pretty oblivious if he isn’t able to recognise the signs of Sungmin having a freak out moment. What an asshole. Donghae likes him even less now.

It’s got nothing to do with jealousy, he tells himself. Sungmin just deserves not to be stuck with someone who’s both boring and thick. Imagine being literally bored to death.

The phone keeps ringing, and Donghae wonders if Sungmin has really blocked his number after all. Fuck Heechul, man. It’s not as though this was any other person he’s tried to sleep with before… This is different, this is — 

“Hello?”

Donghae almost jumps off the sofa. He curses at himself mentally; of course there was a chance that Sungmin might actually answer. No shit. 

“Hi, Sungmin-ssi?” Donghae is amazed his voice sounds so steady. He quietly thanks the five years of training he had to endure before debuting. “Hey. Um. It’s Lee Donghae, from — ”

“I know,” Sungmin cuts him off. His voice is low and angry. “Heechul-hyung told me he gave you my number. I’m going to kill him.”

Whoa.

“Hang on, man. That’s not fair.” Donghae scrambles for words. “I — I was the one who was bugging him about giving me your phone number. And I can be really fucking annoying when I want something, OK? Don’t take it all out on him.”

“Oh, you understand you’re annoying, do you?” There’s real venom in Sungmin’s tone. “Congratulations. Do you also understand what you did at that party nearly cost me the best relationship I’ve ever been in?”

That gets Donghae worked up; it’s pretty rich of Sungmin to complain that what happened that night was all Donghae’s fault. After all, Sungmin wasn’t exactly complaining when they were necking like a bunch of horny teenagers in that booth.

“It takes two to party,” he says. “As far as I can recall it’s not as though you were pushing me away or anything when we — ”

“Don’t!” 

“When we kissed,” Donghae finishes. He ignores the panicked tone in Sungmin’s voice, anger getting the better of him. “And I have to say, for someone who’s so mad at me for starting it, you really don’t kiss like someone whose boyfriend works in accounts. Do you kiss him like that, or was that something you were saving up for the right person?”

Silence. Fuck. Donghae smacks the palm of his hand against his forehead. It makes a satisfying sound. Forget about Heechul eating his raw heart, it’s barely a minute into this conversation and it sounds as though he’s screwed it up yet again.

“Wait, I’m sorry. That came out wrong…”

A short, sharp laugh on the other end of the line. Donghae winces.

“No, Donghae-ssi, I’m pretty sure you said exactly what you wanted to say. I think you should hang up now.”

“Fuck. No! Min, come on. Please, let me say sorry. I’m an asshole. I didn’t think that night, and I didn’t think just now. I… when it comes to you, you just make me so confused.”

“What is there to be confused about?” Sungmin asks. “I told you about twenty times that I was with someone else, but you had to go looking for trouble. So, now you’ve said sorry, and I really think you should put the phone down before you say anything else you’ll regret in the morning.”

“But you stayed!” It’s the one thought that’s been driving Donghae crazy for the past few days. It’s something he can’t figure out. “You could have left at any time, Sungmin-ah. But you didn’t. You let me buy you a drink, then you let me dance with you. Hell, you even let me kiss you — ”

Again, there is an audible intake of breath. Donghae doesn’t care. He presses on. 

“Yeah, we kissed, Min. You kissed me too. And then you suddenly act like this frightened little virgin before running off back to your perfect life. Here’s why I’m confused. Maybe you could help me out, since I’m not, you know, blessed all that well in the brains department.” Donghae takes a deep breath. “This is what I don’t get; if I’m really that horrible, and you have such a wonderful life already, why did you kiss me, Min? Why did you let it happen? Either your perfect boyfriend isn’t quite so perfect. Or — or he is, and you realised you’re not quite into perfection all that much.”

There is a long, aching silence over the line. Donghae tries not to hope for anything, but fails.

“I can’t,” Sungmin sounds so distant, so lost. It frightens Donghae. He wants the feisty, mouthy Sungmin back. Right now. “I can’t do this, Hae. Don’t ask me…”

“Ask you what? Ask you to choose? I’m not saying you have to do that.” — well, not now anyway — “All I’m saying is that you should be honest with yourself for once, Min. Forget about your dad and your boyfriend and your great job. Ask yourself if perfection is what you really need.”

“What if it is?”

“Well, then.” It hurts Donghae to say this, but he knows he should be fair. “I’ll leave you alone. If that’s what you really want, then I’ll respect that. I’ve never met anyone as frustrating as you, Min. You push me away and then you let me get in so close before pushing me away again. I want you so bad it scares me. Usually it’s the other way around, you know? But if you want me to leave you in peace, I promise I’ll never contact you again. Scout’s honour.”

“I didn’t know you were a scout,” Sungmin says after another few seconds. He sounds amused.

“I was. You should see my knots and everything!” Again, Donghae slaps his hand against his forehead. Stop trying all those lines on Sungmin! “Urgh. Forget I said that, please. So, what about it, Min? You want me to stop calling you? Because I will.”

Donghae holds his breath, waits for his heart to drop to the pit of his stomach.

“No,” Sungmin’s voice sounds so small now. “No. But pick a better time to call next time. My boyfriend thinks this is about business stuff. Try and be a bit smarter, OK?”

He hangs up.

Donghae tries not to punch the air in triumph.

Heechul won’t be eating his bloody heart, then. At least, not just yet.

***

 

The next time Donghae tries calling Sungmin, he hits a bit of a snag. He thought he timed it perfectly; it’s in the late afternoon on one of his rare day’s off, almost a week later, when everyone feels like the end of the work day can’t come soon enough, but early enough that it isn’t exactly when people start packing up their things and going home. Donghae hopes Sungmin isn’t in any meetings, but figures that, short of calling the company and asking what Lee Sungmin’s schedule is like, please, he can’t really do much else except try and hope for the best.

Anyway, Donghae’s always been an optimist.

The phone rings for a long time, and when the call finally connects, Donghae is about to greet Sungmin with a snide remark about who the spoilt diva between the two of them is, but then he realises it isn’t Sungmin’s voice on the other end of the line. It’s another guy.

“Hello, Lee Sungmin’s phone.” Whoever it is sounds prompt and professional. Maybe it’s Sungmin’s secretary. 

“Uh,” Donghae hates thinking on his feet. Inevitably he always gets something wrong. “Hi. Is Sungmin-ssi there, please?”

“He’s just finishing up with a client right now,” the voice informs him. “May I ask who’s calling and what this is about? He’s very busy at the moment.”

“Um.” Again Donghae racks his brains. “I — well, if he’s busy that’s all right. I’ll try him another time. I was just calling about…” His eyes light on a model fishing boat he bought the last time he went back home to Mokpo to see his mother. “The… uh, fishing boat contracts. My company makes nets for boats and we kind of need a middle man for selling them to the Chinese. Sungmin-ssi mentioned something about helping me out.”

“Nets for fishing boats??” The voice sounds confused. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it. That sounds like a bit of an unwise venture, actually. So many variables to calculate there. A lot of things that can go wrong.”

“And you are?” Donghae asks, curious and not a little irritated. Who the fuck gave this guy the authority to comment on his fake business proposal anyway? He doesn’t sound as though he’s old enough to be Sungmin’s dad.

“His partner,” the voice tells him. He gives a name too, but Donghae doesn’t need to hear it. He’s heard this guy before, he realises. Thinks back to the party and the group of bankers surrounding Sungmin’s boyfriend. Remembers one voice raised amongst the chatter discussing the different variables to consider when selecting the best stocks for long-term investments. This is him. This is Sungmin’s perfectly bland, boring, annoying, faultless boyfriend.

Donghae wants to punch his teeth in.

“Look,” Sungmin’s boyfriend continues, and then launches into some amazingly detailed speech about where he thinks Donghae’s fictitious company has probably gone about things the wrong way if they want to do business in China. Donghae refuses to give the guy his proper name, because it isn’t worth the effort, and because he childishly hates him for enjoying something that Donghae will never get to experience — waking up next to Sungmin every morning (it’s not like Donghae’s been a little bit obsessed with the thought of Sungmin snuggled up nice and close, both of them safe in a warm cocoon of blankets and each other, not at all). “Trust me, Sungmin and I have been working with the Chinese market for a long time now. You just need to go back and draw up a good business plan.”

“Er…” Donghae is half a second away from telling the guy exactly where to stuff his business plan, but he manages to catch himself in time. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem. Like I said, our company handles a lot of Chinese business. Sungmin will probably be better than me at explaining the situation to you. So why don’t you leave me your name and contact details, Mr — ”

“Cho!” Donghae fishes around for a name. Any name. “Cho Donghyun. Let me give you my number.”

It’s the lamest fake name ever, but it seems to work on Sungmin’s boyfriend, who takes it down and repeats Donghae’s number twice to make sure he has it down right. Donghae tries not to facepalm repeatedly.

They end the conversation there, and Donghae congratulates himself on not telling the guy to go fuck himself. He promises to look up the websites Sungmin’s boyfriend lists (‘They’ve got like, awesome tips for investments’) and then hangs up. He swears loudly, just as Jungsoo walks in juggling a pile of papers and several phones.

“That’s no way to greet your over-worked manager,” he sniffs. “Come and see the interviews I’ve lined up for you next week.”

Smarting from the failure of his phone call, and sheer disbelief that Jungsoo thought it appropriate to bring work to his home on his one day off in several weeks, Donghae drags a chair over to the kitchen table with bad grace, ignoring Jungsoo’s yelping about leaving scratches on the parquet floor.

His phone doesn’t ring once for the next three hours. During that time, Donghae manages to listen to at least one version of Jungsoo’s myriad plans for him next week, and then naps on the sofa while Jungsoo goes on about the importance of keeping his face out of the tabloids.

“Yah! I hope you’re listening to me, Lee Donghae!” Jungsoo tosses a cushion at Donghae’s stomach with enough force to wind him slightly. “Next time you want to have a romantic entanglement, try to make sure you don’t have a press mob following you, all right?”

“Dude. You act as though I ask them to come along on my dates with me!” Donghae snaps. “You think I’m that crazy??”

Jungsoo folds his hands across his chest. “I’m not saying you invite them along, Hae. But you know damn well the people you choose to date attract that sort of attention and speculation. Why not try to get someone less dramatic next time, huh? What about some nice, normal guy who’s a bit boring and makes you talk about your feelings? That’d save me a lot of headaches.”

“Fuck you, hyung,” Donghae sniffs. “As if I’m going to rearrange my love life just because you have to do more work. Anyway, you know I don’t do boring.”

“What about stable, then?” Jungsoo’s voice turns pleading. “Why not some nice, stable guy? Someone who’s not crazy? Like an accountant? Help a guy out here, Hae-ah.”

Donghae turns his head. Is about to make a witty retort when it hits him; Sungmin does fit all the requirements Jungsoo’s looking for, but more importantly, Sungmin would be good for him. Better than the floozy actors he used to hanker after, and the back-up dancers he sleeps with when he’s too drunk and they’re being a bit too insistent. Sungmin would make Donghae earn the right to even take him out on a date. He’d force Donghae to stop being such a fucking slob about the house, make sure there was some sort of routine to his life. Sungmin isn’t seduced by the world of show business, so he wouldn’t let Donghae get away with half as much bullshit as he does.

Sungmin would be good for him.

He supposes he’s known for a while now, but the realisation still manages to shock him into silence. Silence that Jungsoo takes for obedient acceptance.

“Well, good,” he starts gathering up bits of paper and looking for one of his phones, which has managed to make its way onto the floor. Possibly when he was hammering on the dining table in his excitement at finally securing Donghae for some breakfast show at the radio station where the girl whom he is currently chasing works. Donghae can’t even remember saying yes to that interview. “I’m glad we had this talk. You go on tour soon, Hae. We need to keep you out of the tabloids. The next time your mug appears on a front page, I want it to be a story on how you sold the Tokyo Dome out in fifteen seconds.”

“That’s a bit hard to do, even for me, hyung,” Donghae says wearily. He sees Jungsoo to the door and flops back down on the sofa, sifting through a few papers Jungsoo left behind. He’s not really interested in the nitty gritty financial details of his career, but it’s always good to keep up with the what he’s agreed to let himself in for this week.

Just as he’s walking to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, his phone rings. Hope flickers somewhere in Donghae’s chest.

Calm, man. Keep calm. You’re a fucking rock star; it could be anyone. Remember that stalker the police had to remove from the recording studios a few months back? It could be him. It could be Heechul asking you out to a party. Maybe Zhou Mi finally has had enough of your lack of talent for designing anything more complicated than baseball caps. There’s no reason — 

Donghae looks at the caller display. It’s an unlisted number. He really tries not to get too excited, but fails miserably.

“Hello?”

“Cho Donghyun?” Sungmin asks, and Donghae wants to jump up and down on his sofa like a kid (but he doesn’t, because the sofa is much more expensive than the one he wrecked when he was six). “You really couldn’t think of a better name, Donghae-ssi?”

“Hey, man.” Donghae tries to sound cool and aloof, but fails completely. He knows he sounds far too happy. And he is, because Sungmin has actually called him back. Surely that’s some kind of miracle. “Your boyfriend was giving me the fucking third degree, OK?”

“Mmhmm.” Is there a slightly skeptical note in Sungmin’s voice? “Sure. I’ll give you credit for the fishing nets for Chinese boats idea though. That was slightly less implausible than the name. I thought I told you to be smart.”

“Huh. Well, your guy seemed to buy it.” Donghae resists the urge to stick his tongue out. “Anyway, what are you doing calling me so late? Were you working out business plans for me with your multi-talented boyfriend?”

He knows he must sound bitter, but it’s so hard not to poke fun at Sungmin’s oblivious better half.

“I just got back from taking him to the airport,” Sungmin says, slightly reprimanding. “He’s left for a conference in Taipei. The house is lonely now that it’s just me here. I wanted to hear someone’s voice, and then I remembered some guy with a weird name called today with a proposal to sell nets to Chinese fishermen who can make them perfectly well themselves.”

“I wonder who that sucker is. So you didn’t just call because you were thinking about me and my fabulous body, huh?”

This earns Donghae a giggle. It’s better than the stone-cold rejections he’s been getting.

“You don’t stop trying, do you?”

“With you?” Donghae smiles ruefully. “No, I don’t think I can, Sungmin-ah.”

“Even though you know you shouldn’t.”

“Even though you keep telling me I’m wasting my time,” Donghae counters. “Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. You’re right, you know; I hate that I can’t have you. Usually, I’m the laziest bastard on earth when it comes to things like this. I figure, if someone doesn’t want me, that’s their loss — ”

“Charming.” 

“Let me continue, please.” Donghae tries to straighten out the muddle of his thoughts. For so long he’s not had to talk about stuff like this. He acts more on instinct than anything else, and gives in to impulses more than he should. Sungmin demands more than just a blurted out confession. “I — You keep making me want to try to have you because you could see what was broken in me, not because it’s a challenge for me to seduce you like some villain from those romances chicks like to read. I mean, I don’t even think about why I am the way I am. Not really. I just eat and sleep and perform. When I get a bit of free time I sleep with whoever’s available. I’ve never had to question why I do it. You… you could tell me what no one else ever has because you’re not part of the world I live in. You don’t want to be. And then…”

“And then?” Sungmin sounds as though he’s walking through different rooms in his house.

“Then I realised why you could tell me I was broken,” Donghae steels himself mentally. “Because there’s something inside you that needs fixing too.”

A pause. Donghae doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath till his chest begins to hurt and he exhales noisily down the phone.

“That’s very presumptuous of you, Lee Donghae.”

“Yeah, I know.” Donghae scrubs a hand through his hair. “But a guy’s got to try, right? Anyway, haven’t you wondered why you keep trying to convince me that you and I would be such a bad idea? We both know you have everything you could want in life; nice, cushy job with your dad’s company, but with enough independence from him now that you’re living out here with your wonderful man. I bet you live in a great condo complex too, don’t you? Somewhere with spa facilities and a front desk with one of those receptionists who have to wear uniforms. And you know I’m trouble; I’m not going to deny that. But the way you kissed me that night, Min. It wasn’t like someone who was happy with everything he had in life, if you get my meaning. You’re missing something, too, even with everything you have. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s why the two of us wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

Sungmin sighs. “So, you think I’m drawn to you because… because I haven’t got enough in my life already? You think I’m lacking something, like you? May I remind you that I’m the one who’s in a stable long-term relationship, and you’re the one trying it on with any person who’s silly enough to throw themselves at you?”

It stings, because its true. Donghae closes his eyes. Tastes defeat and bitterness at the back of his throat.

“You don’t understand anything about me,” Sungmin says suddenly, just as Donghae thinks he’s about to hang up. “I’ve had to fight so hard for everything I’ve got today, Donghae-ah. I can’t give it all up just because you have a feeling that something is broken in me and that makes us kindred spirits.”

Donghae wants to repeat his piece about leaps of faith, but he doesn’t think that it’s the right time to tell Sungmin to just forget about his whole life and take a chance on a disreputable rock star with a reputation for sleeping around. On the other hand, Sungmin does sound as though he’s finally ready to share some of the secrets Donghae knows must be hidden somewhere inside him. Donghae can work with that; he’s always been resourceful.

“So tell me,” he asks. “Tell me what you’ve had to sacrifice, Min. Look; we’ll trade, OK? I’ll tell you one of my secrets for yours. How’s that sound?”

“You going to give me a tabloid exclusive, Mr Lee?” There’s a hint of a challenge in Sungmin’s voice. “Do you trust me that much?”

“Yes,” Donghae says, without thinking. He’s acting on impulse, as usual, but his gut says that things will be OK. Lee Sungmin seems the kind of person who could keep secrets for a lifetime, if he had to. Maybe that’s not such a good thing. “What do you say?”

“All right.”

So Donghae tells Sungmin the whole sordid story of his rise to fame. How he was cornered by a talent agent for one of the major agencies here in Seoul one day when he was barely fourteen and on his way to school. How the guy had made him promises of fame and fortune, of being able to rescue him from the humdrum everyday life he lived in Mokpo, of being able to provide for his family so that they wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again. But Donghae’s father had smelt a rat from the start; he couldn’t — or wouldn’t — believe that his youngest boy had enough talent to make it big in show business. More than that, he was skeptical of Donghae moving out at such a young age, to go to a city renowned for glutting itself on the broken dreams of the people who travelled to the capital to try and make their fortune.

“My dad was a real hard taskmaster,” Donghae mutters. “He said that he wasn’t going to spend money to send me away to lose my soul. He thought I should study hard and try and get a good job at one of the shipping companies. Said I could see the world while I was doing honest work, instead of just singing to crazed audiences.”

“I see you took your dad’s advice.” Sungmin notes wryly. To his great credit, he doesn’t add anything else to that observation. “Go on.”

Donghae tells him of how he scraped up enough money on his own after three hard years. At first, he’d taken on odd-jobs when and where he could find them, often working long hours on weekends and being tired out by the time the school week started up again. His grades suffered, his parents despaired. Shouting matches were common, being grounded was a fact of life. Still Donghae persevered, helping out at a factory tinning tuna, manning the deep fryers at a local fast food outlet, serving customers at a bargain fashion boutique. He’d saved more than half the amount needed for a rail ticket to Seoul and the audition fee. He hadn’t even thought about other expenses, he just knew he had to get out.

“You had to escape,” Sungmin breathes. There is a note in his voice that hints at shared sentiment.

Donghae hums an agreement. “Apart from my family, there wasn’t any real reason for me to stay there. With my grades, I wouldn’t have been able to get into college and I didn’t really want to work as a fisherman, you know? Can you imagine me hauling up a net?”

Sungmin laughs. A real, genuine laugh this time. So Donghae continues with his story. Tells Sungmin about how on his sixteenth birthday, a friend had introduced him to a bartender at a seedy watering hole just on the outskirts of the city, where sailors and other persons associated with Mokpo’s marine industry gathered. They’d needed someone to help clear up dirty glasses, and the pay was nearly triple of any other job. Donghae had volunteered immediately, only to find that picking up sticky beer glasses wasn’t the only aspect of his job.

“They wanted someone with a pretty face to sit with customers.” From this distance, the memories don’t hurt as much. Not when compared to the loss of Donghae’s father. “After a while I realised I was being paid to let people feel up my ass whenever they popped in for a beer.”

He’d hated it, of course. Had copped a slap across the face from his boss the first time he’d refused to sit on a customer’s lap. The guy had looked like an ordinary business man, but his hands had roamed everywhere while tears streamed down Donghae’s swollen face. He’d shoved a wad of notes down Donghae’s trousers and promised to double it if Donghae would let him do it again the next time he came. That night, Donghae had cried into his pillow, trying to muffle the sound so his eldest brother wouldn’t hear. The next night he had gone back, wearing a tight t-shirt and tighter jeans, a smile fixed on his face.

“I had to get out,” he tells Sungmin, voice dull. “I never let them fuck me, though. Some boys let them, but I always refused. I still got paid more than anyone, because of my face. Sounds stupid, but there you go. Saved enough to leave for Seoul in about six months. Then I left, auditioned, became a trainee, debuted. You know how it goes from there. And now no one but you and my manager knows what I did to get here.”

“I’m sorry,” Sungmin says, sounding small.

“Don’t be.” Donghae frowns, “You didn’t demand to know. I offered you an equal exchange, remember? Anyway, that’s my story; I did what I had to do, and I got out. I don’t dwell on it anymore; what’s done is done. As far as I know, no one’s gone to the papers with a story about me being a teenage bar host. They’re probably too scared of outing themselves. So, anyway. Your turn next.”

“I don’t think I can top that, but a deal’s a deal.” Sungmin draws in a breath and suddenly Donghae wishes that he was there hearing this confession in person. He pictures the two of them cuddled together in bed, swapping stories. The telephone is much too impersonal for these sorts of occasions; it’s too cold and Sungmin sounds too remote for something as intimate as this.

“Let me tell you about how I came here.” 

Sungmin’s story starts of slow and hesitant. He describes his family — his father and mother and younger brother who adores him, apparently — and tells Donghae about his childhood. 

“I did everything; singing classes, piano classes, guitar classes, acting classes,” Sungmin laughs again. This time he sounds bitter. “I had enrichment classes for nearly every subject in school and I did some sport when I found the time. Must have done me some good; I came first in the entire school. My dad was so proud he shipped me straight off to America to go to Harvard and study business.”

“You had free time?” Donghae butts in. “Sorry! Damn, Minnie. And, wow. Harvard. That’s some quality education right there.”

“Do you always talk first and think later?” Sungmin teases. “I’m surprised you don’t get into more trouble than you do, Donghae-ssi.”

He continues. Talks about his father’s growing business empire, and how he was groomed from a young age to be the successor, often meeting clients with his father on weekends, just so everyone knew who he was and what was expected of him.

“That doesn’t sound like much of a childhood,” Donghae says. He remembers afternoons in the park kicking a football around with his father and brothers. Doesn’t sound like Sungmin got to enjoy anything like that. 

“I was in America for four years,” Sungmin tells him. “In my senior year, there was a party that Korean student societies like to organise. I figured I’d earned myself a bit of recreation time; I’d just finished finals, after all. So I went and got really wasted on soju. It was my first party, Hae. Can you imagine? I was twenty-five and I figured, what the hell.”

“Yeah.” Donghae can imagine. He imagines a bit too well, if he’s being honest. But (again) this isn’t the time to tell Sungmin.

“I ended up making out with some American-Korean guy I just met. I guess I always knew I preferred men, and he was just there at the right time. It was like one of those lifetime movies you watch on cable TV over there.”

“Who was he?” Again, the question pops out before Donghae can stop himself. Damn. He really, really needs to work on getting his impulses under control. But he’s not jealous of some random dude Sungmin sucked face with a few years ago. Definitely not. 

“Why, are you jealous?” Sungmin giggles. “Don’t worry, Hae. I left him after the party and I’ve never stayed in contact. I dated a few other guys before I came home, though. None of them were really my type. And then I figured I had to be honest with my dad about the whole thing, so I told him when I moved back to Korea. He couldn’t believe it at first. Said it was just a phase, that I would grow out of it. He told me it didn’t change the fact that I would have to take over the company one day though, so it’d be better if I straightened myself out. Literally.” 

He takes another breath. Donghae wishes he could reach down the phone and grasp hold of Sungmin’s hand. Anything to show that he understands where the other man is coming from. His family, at least, has been a bit more understanding of his wide-ranging preferences, though his mother still shakes her head if she sees his name in the tabloids. He can’t imagine the sort of pressure Sungmin’s father would have put him under.

“Anyway, the guys back here… most of them weren’t really like the men I knew back in America. They’re more cautious, less likely to take chances, stuff like that. They were all so intimidated by my father’s company and who I was supposed to be. Usually they only lasted one date.” Sungmin pauses. “Until I met my boyfriend. He was… well. He likes to talk to me about business, so I figured it was better than nothing. And he asked me out more than once, too. We were dating for about six months before my dad finally realised why his star intern kept coming into my office around lunch time. He’s a bit slow like that. So I had to tell him about us.

“He called me into his office about a week later. Told me that, while he was upset I was being stubborn and difficult about not fitting in like the rest of his employees, the guy I’d chosen to be with was the best candidate for me to be deviant with. So to speak. But too many people had seen us together in Ilsan. One of the secretaries had seen us kissing each other goodnight outside a bar once. I had a choice; I could either try and act normal, or I could move away.”

“What kind of a fucking choice is that?” Donghae explodes. He winces. “Ah, fuck. Sorry.”

“Donghae,” Sungmin sounds so tired. “You have to understand; my dad’s the head of a large corporation. He needs to keep up his public image. Having a gay son didn’t quite fit into his grand master plan.”

Donghae is about to protest, to tell Sungmin that he isn’t just another factor to consider in his father’s five year plan.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Sungmin mutters, before Donghae can say anything. “You think I liked it? I wanted to scream and yell. I wanted to tell him where to stick his fucking plans for the company. But he’s my father, Hae. Heechul-hyung told me you lost your father just after you debuted. You understand I had to be a good son. We tried being discrete for a while, but after a year there was a position that opened in Shanghai for my boyfriend. My father let me go along with him; I think he knew there wasn’t any danger in China. Not many people knew us there.”

They stayed there for another year, until the contract ended and Sungmin’s boyfriend had put in a transfer request to come back to Korea.

“He’s always preferred the food back here,” Sungmin muses. “I liked Shanghai, though. Such a crazy city. Anyway, my father’s decided to open a branch of the company here, and since my boyfriend is supposed to be in training to be a junior partner in the business, it seems more acceptable that we share a house together, to cut down on rent. I haven’t really talked to my dad for longer than fifteen minutes on the phone, for about three years now. As long as we’ve been together. I haven’t really been back to see the family, either; my dad keeps saying they’re all busy, all the time. But my brother keeps writing e-mails, so at least we have that.”

“So now you’re here in Seoul.” Donghae says, his heart aching in sympathy for Sungmin’s lost childhood and his dismissal from his father’s side, just because he decided to be honest. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised at what’s happened, but it doesn’t stop him from being absolutely furious on Sungmin’s behalf.

“Now we’re in Seoul.” Sungmin repeats flatly. “I’ve given up so much for this man, Donghae-ssi. Don’t you see?”

“I do,” Donghae replies. “And I think you’ve sacrificed way too much for someone who’s more in love with investment deals than you. He didn’t even notice how bored you were at the party, Min. I mean, if we were together, I’d definitely notice if you were off dancing with some dickhead musician like me. Ask yourself, has it been worth it?”

“Donghae, you don’t know what he’s like…”

“Come on. It’s a fair question, Min.”

Silence hangs between them again. Donghae can feel Sungmin drawing away from him, the distance stretching out between electronic relays, leaving them with unspoken words and regrets.

“I — ” Again, Donghae feels Sungmin’s hesitance, his refusal to let go to everything he’s built up so carefully. He’s a bastard for asking, of course, but Sungmin needs to be honest with both of them. “I — I should just go, Hae. It’s late. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“No, Min — ”

It’s too late. The phone is dead in Donghae’s hand. It feels as though he’s being pulled out to sea by a rip, powerless against the flow of the current that threatens to drown him.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time, it isn’t Donghae who makes the first move. 

Three days after their last phone call, Donghae is enjoying a well-earned night off. His schedules all finished early today, even though the tour rehearsals are steadily becoming more and more gruelling, since the first concert begins in a little over a week. After a quick dinner with Jungsoo, he’s back at home and indulging himself with a large tumbler of whiskey and the entire run of the original Star Wars movies. He’s glad he’s got the boxset, just so he has something mindless to watch to take his mind off the phone call with Sungmin.

He’s got it bad. There isn’t any point denying it. He’s been able to get closer to Sungmin than he’s ever got before, but to what end? Donghae’s listened to the entire tale of how Sungmin’s perfect life isn’t quite so perfect, and while he understands how much Sungmin’s had to give up for even a modicum of happiness, he still thinks Sungmin shouldn’t be so satisfied with someone who likes to talk about work more than he likes to spend time with Sungmin. Why else would he let Sungmin go wandering off in the middle of a crowded nightclub? 

Fuck, if Donghae had Sungmin to himself, he’d… Well, he’d never let Sungmin leave the bedroom, for one. But he’d make sure Sungmin did whatever made him happy, and he’d try to talk about topics that they were both interested in, not the best stocks to buy when the market was entering a recession. He would make Sungmin laugh when he was stressed out at work. Maybe sing a ballad to make him cry, and then make it up to him later, without the rest of the world watching. They could travel to Shanghai, and Sungmin could actually show Donghae more of the city than the hotel rooms and concert venues he’s seen already. He’d make Sungmin show him all his favourite little watering spots around the city, from the glamour of the French Concession, to some little laneway cafe where they don’t have street signs, just regular customers and seriously good coffee, next to a shop that sells knockoff designer bags from a factory in Italy that makes the genuine article. They can do all of that, or nothing at all, and Donghae knows he could make Sungmin so much happier than what he’s got to put up with right now…

Damn. He’s doing it again. Donghae picks up his whiskey and takes a huge hit, breathing out shakily.

It’s stupid, making plans and thinking about things that will never happen. Can never happen, Donghae reminds himself, because while he’s perfectly willing to try most things at least once, he’s aware Sungmin doesn’t really have the luxury of choice. Asking him to give up everything would be extremely selfish. That’s what makes it complicated and hard to work out. Because life isn’t like the songs he sings, and love is cruel and demanding. It snatches you away when you least expect it, sucks you in whole, and spits you out afterwards, broken and bruised.

He isn’t a poet, but Donghae knows a little about the scars that love leaves and the demands it makes. Onscreen, Luke Skywalker is about to make the decision to leave Tatooine and change his life in pursuit of a distressed princess.

Huh. Seems appropriate. Donghae slurps back some more whiskey, repeating the dialogue under his breath. He’s watched these movies a few too many times, but that’s what makes the repeat viewings better.

Then his phone rings.

Donghae picks it up without thinking; Jungsoo had wanted to go over a few last issues with him tonight, but Donghae had told him to leave it until the morning. Not that Jungsoo ever actually listens.

“Yeah?”

“Donghae-ssi? I finally got through!” Sungmin doesn’t sound like his usual, composed self. His words are slurred together and the way he gasps, more than giggles, sets Donghae’s alarm bells ringing. “I’ve been trying for ages. Maybe it’s because I couldn’t remember your number and I had to go looking through the call list on my phone. That’s not important. Guess where I am, Hae.”

Even though he’s most likely wrong, Donghae wants to believe this is nothing more than Sungmin feeling lonely and sorry for himself alone at home. Please God, don’t let this be anywhere else. Especially not —

“I’m at The Venture Club! Where we first met!” Sungmin shouts, without waiting for an answer and Donghae’s heart falls. Even though the club is supposed to admit no one but a select few, the reality is that those select few are almost all inveterate scoundrels, on the hunt for some easy conquest. Donghae knows this for a fact because until about a few weeks ago, he’d been just like any one of them. Funny how having actual feelings for someone tends to change that. He won’t let Sungmin be put through the same routine. Especially not when some asshole there might undo all his good work of convincing Sungmin to be more open and send him right back home to his colourless life.

“Why aren’t you at home, Min?” Donghae asks. He mentally calculates the time it would take him to get dressed again and drive to the club. About twenty minutes, give or take a few traffic lights. He really doesn’t want Sungmin there alone. Especially not when he’s drunk and might make decisions that he could regret in the morning.

(It’s not that Donghae doesn’t think Sungmin can handle himself — he is a grown man, after all — but he wants to be sure. And if anyone is going to help Sungmin home at the end of the night, it’s going to be him, not some random guy from the club.)

“I was alone at home,” Sungmin says sullenly. “I was thinking about you and I wanted to call, but I was too chickenshit to try. So I came here instead. Good plan, huh? The bartender’s really nice. He’s been pouring me martinis for the past two hours. Says I better give him a big tip… D’you have a spare fifty thousand won to loan me, Hae?”

“That’s it. I’m coming to get you. But… wait. Hang on. You were thinking about me?” Donghae pauses in the middle of trying to button his jeans. “Why?”

Another gasping giggle.

“You’re such a silly little Fish, Hae. Don’t you know why?”

The possibility is too unreal for Donghae to even consider. It makes something inside his chest twist and it hurts. He coughs and fumbles the phone.

“That’s not fair,” he mutters, when he finally gets a hold on his frenzied emotions. “You can’t just say things like that when you’ve been trying to convince me to be good and respect boundaries and shit like that… Ah, fuck it. Look, I’m coming to get you and I’m taking you home.”

“Home to yours?” Sungmin asks, his voice shaky. “I was thinking about that today, you know. Thinking about what it would be like if I did come home with you that night at the party. The way you kiss… it was so different to what I’m used to… You’re much sweeter than you seem, Hae. It’s like you try to fool everyone into thinking you’re this hardcore rockstar with no conscience and an addiction to sex. But… mmm… how do I say this?”

By this time, Donghae has put Sungmin on speaker, just so he can get ready faster. It doesn’t help when Sungmin decides to start spouting weird little observations like this. Just when he had things (sort of) figured out, Sungmin has decided to swoop in and muddle Donghae’s thoughts again.

“You want to be good, Hae. But it’s like you think you can’t be, because that’s not what people think you should be. Which is kind of weird because — oh look! The bartender’s bringing me another drink now. I’ll talk to you later, Donghae-ah.”

The phone clicks off. Donghae has already slipped it into his pocket as he runs out the door.

***

 

The drive to Apgujeong is longer than Donghae expects. It seems as though he runs into every single red light at every single traffic junction. Once, a bunch of rowdy office workers in a taxi notice him and proceed to yell at the top of their voices, telling him how much they’re looking forward to the upcoming tour. Donghae barely manages a weak smile and a wave as he zooms past. The tyres on his coupe squeal torturously as he rounds a corner faster than he meant to, and he arrives at The Venture Club a full half an hour after he hung up with Sungmin.

Donghae tosses the keys to the uniformed valet driver and slips him a large tip to make sure the car is ready the moment they leave. Given whatever state Sungmin’s managed to drink himself to, getting out of here quickly will be imperative.

The bouncer on duty lets him in with a cheery greeting, and Donghae has to restrain himself from bounding down the stairs to the basement. He strides into the club, keenly aware that, for the first time, he’s actually trying to slip in as unobtrusively as possible. Donghae’s got the hood of his sweatshirt pulled down low over his head, in order to mask as much of his face as he can. He spots Sungmin draped over the bar counter, trying to eat an olive whilst talking to a lawyer Donghae knows is a partner at one of the largest firms in the city.

Damn.

As he draws nearer, Donghae can hear them talking.

“…My second boat is about to arrive anytime soon. If I’m lucky it could be as early as this weekend. What about it, Sungmin-ssi? Would you be interested in seeing a real racing catamaran in action?”

“Not really,” Sungmin says, his voice even more muddled by alcohol now. “Don’t really understand those things anyway. My dad used to have a friend who owned a yacht. We had holidays sailing near Jeju. I could never get used to the cabin beds. I like to sprawl out on a nice big bed.” He cocks his head, “And besides. I don’t think I’d like your catamaran. I think I’m more into fishing boats. They’re slightly crazy, but they’re… I dunno. Honest.”

Donghae tells himself that Sungmin is drunk, though he can’t stop a huge smile from spreading across his face. The lawyer looks baffled, is about to interject, but Donghae steps in.

“Hey there,” he wracks his brain for the guy’s name. Kim Yongjin. Something like that. “Hyung-nim, why don’t you leave my friend alone? He’s had a bit too much to drink, as you can see, and he’s not all that interested in your funny little boat, so why don’t you go outfit it with a new GPS so you can pretend to be a a real sailor, huh?”

The lawyer glowers at Donghae. “Well, if it isn’t the big music star himself deciding to grace us with his presence! Sungmin-ssi and I have been talking for most of the night, so why don’t you butt out and let him decide whether he wants to continue talking to me or not?”

Sungmin snorts. “Donghae is right. I do think your boat is silly! And… and… I have a boyfriend, and Donghae’s here to make sure I don’t do anything stupid. Although I think I might have already, but you know. I was trying to polite since you were trying so hard. It was nice talking to you, hyung-nim. Make sure you say hi to your wife for me.”

For a moment the lawyer doesn’t say anything. Then he scowls, plainly unhappy with having his attempt at a pick up fail completely.

“Fine. My catamaran cost me more than you’ll ever see in your life, Lee Sungmin. Screw the both of you.”

He stalks away. Donghae wants to yell something abusive after him, but Sungmin’s arm on his hand stops him in time. He turns back and takes the other man in; Sungmin obviously didn’t bother to change out of his work clothes before coming here. The top few buttons of his shirt collar are undone and his shirt sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. His rumbled suit jacket has been thrown across his knees and is just about to slide off his lap before Donghae steps in and picks it up.

“You came,” Sungmin says, his eyes shining. “I didn’t think you actually meant it.”

“Well, I figured that if you were calling me, you must be pretty drunk,” Donghae smiles, drops into the empty seat the lawyer’s just vacated. “I see I wasn’t wrong.”

“‘M not that drunk, Donghae-ah,” before Donghae can stop him, Sungmin slugs back the rest of his martini. “Mmm. That was my tenth one.”

Donghae tries not to look too impressed. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” Sungmin looks at his hands, won’t meet Donghae’s eyes. “Long enough to think that calling you was a good idea.”

The bartender sidles up and Donghae manages not to lose his temper when he sees who it is.

“Yah! Kim Ryeowook, you should be ashamed of yourself!” 

“What?” Ryeowook attempts to look innocent. “The boy said he wanted to drink — and I quote —‘Until I’m so drunk they have to take me out of here on a stretcher’. You should be happy I’ve only stopped serving him now. I’m still saving my best cocktails for the day you decide you want to take on my chilli vodka shooters, Donghae-ssi. When’s that going to be?”

“Never, because I’m not a fucking maniac” Donghae snaps. “Does Sungmin owe anything else?”

With a toss of his hair, Ryeowook slides over an impressive looking bar tab. Donghae sighs, glances at Sungmin, who’s surprisingly sober-looking. He takes out a wad of notes and shoves them in Ryeowook’s direction before hauling Sungmin out of his chair.

“Come on, we’re leaving now. Can you stand on your own?”

Sungmin sniffs. Tries to put his jacket on three times, misses the left sleeve all three times and almost gives up, but Donghae helps him, aware that some patrons at the bar are beginning to whisper.

“Don’t say anything,” Sungmin says. His jaw is clenched shut and he wraps his arms around himself defensively, his chin lifted

“Not here.” Donghae agrees. “But we’re definitely talking in the car.”

He makes Sungmin lean on him as they walk out, his arm around Sungmin’s waist, and Sungmin’s head resting on his shoulder as they navigate the stairs. Pressed so close together, Donghae can smell the warm, soapy scent of Sungmin’s skin. It makes him wish they were halfway across town, in his bedroom, with only sheets to separate them. At any other moment, Donghae would think this was quite romantic. As it is, he’s still confused as hell, and wishing that he was attracted to less complicated men. 

Donghae can’t quite bring himself to wish he wasn’t attracted to Sungmin though.

The valet has already started his car when they leave the club, and he holds open the door for Sungmin, who gets into Donghae’s Audi with no further problems, smiling blearily at the valet in thanks as Donghae slides in next to him.

“Drive safe, Mr Lee,” the valet says. For a moment, Donghae doesn’t know if the valet is referring to him or Sungmin.

He makes Sungmin program his address into the car’s navigation system, just to be sure. It’s a nice address, near Dosan Park. Donghae wouldn’t have expected any less; it fits in with everything Sungmin’s told him about his family and upbringing. They pull away from the club in silence, and Donghae carefully tries to merge into the late-night traffic. He manages to get by with only two cars honking at him, which is a record.

“So?” He asks, when they stop in front of a red light. “Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?”

“No,” Sungmin sighs. “There isn’t that much to say, is there? I was feeling sorry for myself at home, OK? It’s just me in the house and I got bored so I thought I’d try and meet Heechul for a drink at the club, since he helped me get membership there. But he had to work on a fashion shoot with Zhou Mi-ssi, so I ended up getting to know Wookie at the bar, and he recommended a few drinks here and there. I might have overdone it slightly…”

Donghae rolls his eyes.

“I saw that, Lee Donghae! Anyway, that’s all it was. I got drunk and called you. That’s it, so please don’t think that it meant anything…”

“I can’t believe you!” Donghae interrupts loudly. He swears and changes lanes, cutting off a small Hyundai. “You’re making excuses for what you told me over the phone while you’re pissed! That’s got to be some kind of miracle. C’mon Min. Don’t insult my intelligence, all right? You called and said you were thinking of me, then you give me this long spiel about how you think you’d maybe, possibly like to kiss me again. Then you want to come home with me, after which you tell me that I’m a good person pretending to be bad. Or something. Now you expect me to just forget that all happened? Not a chance.”

Sungmin stays quiet for a moment. Donghae concentrates on the traffic; it won’t do to let himself get worked up and lose concentration — Jungsoo will kill him if he rear-ends another software billionaire again.

“I knew you were dangerous from the start.” Sungmin says it low, under his breath, so Donghae isn’t sure what he’s just heard. He’d ask Sungmin to repeat it again, but he knows how crass that would sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sungmin wrap his arms around himself. “You’re so bad for me, Donghae.”

“Why?” The word slips out a lot more roughly than Donghae intends. He’s not perfect, he’s never pretended to be. But he’s never though of himself as actually being detrimental to anyone’s wellbeing before. It hurts even more that it’s Sungmin saying it. “What have I done, Min? At least tell me that!”

They aren’t that far away from Sungmin’s house now. It’s just a few more blocks. Donghae looks at Sungmin and is alarmed to note that the other man has curled into himself, his head bowed and his knees drawn together. The knuckles of Sungmin’s fingers are white.

“Min? Sungmin!” There’s no response. “Shit.”

He gets to the address Sungmin gave. It’s not actually a condominium complex. Instead, Sungmin’s home is an elegant double-storey bungalow, the sort that Donghae’s mother has been lusting after for decades. And Donghae doesn’t really have time to appreciate it. He parks the car outside the high double gates, throws open Sungmin’s car door.

Heechul did mention Sungmin used to be prone to breakdowns. Well, he would, given that his father sounds like the world’s biggest hardass. Why does Donghae only remember these things when it’s too late?

“Min? Can you hear me?”

Still no response. 

Donghae reaches out and unbuckles Sungmin’s seat belt, then puts one hand on Sungmin’s cold fingers. “Min, come on, man. You’re scaring me.”

This time, Donghae gets a sniffle. Sungmin finally raises his head and catches Donghae’s worried glance. Unbelievably, he seems to find it amusing because Sungmin sniggers and puts a finger on the tip of Donghae’s nose.

“Got you!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Donghae snaps, half-shaky with relief, half furious that Sungmin has been stringing him along for the last ten minutes while Donghae’s heart nearly burst. Now he remembers why he never likes being the sober friend driving his drinking buddies home. “You were putting that show on in the car??”

“You were being difficult,” Sungmin tells him. He shrugs his shoulders. “And I wanted to think about what you said before I gave you a proper answer.”

“There are other ways of doing that!” Donghae nearly explodes. “Most of them don’t involve giving me a fucking heart attack!”

Sungmin shushes him, pushes Donghae away so he can climb out of the car. He’s still wobbly on his feet and has to lean on Donghae for balance. Again Donghae wishes they were doing this under very different circumstances, and (not for the first time) he curses Sungmin’s current entanglement with a man so obsessed with business plans he couldn’t work out Donghae’s (admittedly, quite brilliant) false story about fishing nets. Sungmin isn’t exactly light, which means Donghae ends up slipping an arm around him to keep him upright. He ends up being distracted by the way Sungmin fits easily into the crook of his arm and the clean, fresh smell of Sungmin’s hair, still untainted from his time at the club.

Sungmin fumbles with his keys for a while, but gets the gates to the house open. It’s a short walk to the front door, but Donghae insists on helping Sungmin get there.

“Really, Donghae-ssi, I’m not drunk!”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m not feeling very inclined to believe you tonight, OK?”

They get to the door after several attempts, most of which feature Sungmin veering dangerously off course and wandering into the gravel that lines the path through the small ornamental garden just in front of the house.

“I hate this shit,” Sungmin mumbles. “It looks so pretentious. But my boyfriend wanted to have it. Something about making the place look more zen. I stopped him when he tried to put in a sand pit. I mean, can you imagine it? A sand pit right where all the guests park their cars. So stupid…”

They get onto the porch and he goes on muttering to himself as he takes out his keychain and starts hunting through a huge mass of charms and keys to find the one that unlocks his front door. Donghae leans against a wall and stares up at the night sky. He can’t really see it from here; it’s been blocked by the skyscrapers and artificial light, but he knows if he were at home, he could see a million stars scattered across the darkness right now.

“What are you looking for, Hae?” Sungmin asks suddenly. He’s found his key and is about to slide it into the lock. “A shooting star for you to make a wish on?”

“I dunno.” Donghae rubs his face tiredly, “Might be. Not sure what I’d wish for, though… Maybe I’d wish for you to tell me why you think I’m so dangerous and shit. I mean, I know I’m not the nicest guy in the world, but it kinda hurts. I thought we were friends, at least.”

Sungmin pushes the key into the lock and turns it. There is a click and a beeping noise as the burglar alarm registers that the door has been opened. He punches a code into the unit by the door and shuts it off. Only then can Sungmin push the door to his home open. From here, Donghae can’t see anything inside the house. It’s like staring into the dark expanse of a cave.

“Despite what you think about me, I don’t actually believe you’re a bad man,” Sungmin says softly. They look at each other in the darkness. Sungmin’s eyes are covered in shadow, and Donghae can’t really make out the expression on his face. Sungmin looks equal parts drunk, tired, resigned, angry. 

“Then what is it?” Confused and frustrated, Donghae leans closer, gets right into Sungmin’s personal space so they’re barely a few centimetres apart. He can smell the alcohol on Sungmin’s breath, but he doesn’t care. He tips Sungmin’s chin up, mesmerised by the curve of Sungmin’s cheek and the liquid darkness of his eyes. 

“No… Hae, please…” But Sungmin doesn’t pull away, and Donghae can’t look anywhere else but at Sungmin.

“Tell me! You owe me that much.”

“No…” Sungmin’s hands come up and fist themselves in Donghae’s thin, old t-shirt.

“Just say it!” He doesn’t think he can take much more of this. The tension between them is so thick as to be almost choking. Donghae needs to know why he keeps being warned off, pushed away, brought back.

“I’m scared of you!” Sungmin finally blurts out. “I’m scared, Hae.”

“Why?” Donghae asks. His hands find Sungmin’s. He grips hold of Sungmin’s fingers. “Give me a reason! What have I done to you to make you afraid of me, Min?”

A short burst of laughter. Sungmin hangs his head.

“Don’t you know?”

Maybe Donghae does. Maybe he’s known for a while. But he’s definitely not going to let Sungmin get away without telling him to his face. They stare at each other for a long time, and all Donghae can hear is the chirp of crickets and the occasional car passing by. Years pass, but Donghae can’t look away.

“You make me want more,” Sungmin finally admits. He drops his gaze. “Talking to you… Being around you makes me want more than I have here. You make me want to believe in all that bullshit you sing about. But it doesn’t work like that, does it, Hae? I can’t leave everything I have and pretend that we can have a happily ever after, just on an impulse.”

“Even though you want to.” Traitorous hope flares in Donghae’s chest, and though he tells himself he shouldn’t, he can’t ignore it. “You want me.”

Sungmin stares at him now, his expression open and naked. Donghae can read the yearning there, feels like he’s about to suffocate.

“God, I want you so much more than you know.”

Donghae doesn’t fight it. He can’t right now. Sungmin is already leaning forward and Donghae’s lips find his halfway.

This kiss hurts more than any kiss Donghae’s ever experienced. It tastes of bitterness and hurt. Of untold longing and smothered hopes and frustrated desire. Donghae slides his hands into Sungmin’s hair, plunders his mouth ruthlessly. He can’t get enough, doesn’t want to stop, because he’s heard it from Sungmin’s lips and he knows now that he will never be free of Sungmin. He doesn’t want to be. And Sungmin is kissing him back, his fingers digging into Donghae’s arms, leaving marks, drawing him in further. Donghae’s chest feels so tight, and he can’t breathe properly. Doesn’t need to. Nothing else in the world matters but this, and he knows that it doesn’t make sense, that it probably is the height of selfishness to want Sungmin like this.

But Donghae doesn’t care. Sungmin makes him want to forget everything and anyone else. He wants to take Sungmin away from his half-lived life with his placid boyfriend and show him he could be happy on his own terms, not anyone else’s. He wants to take Sungmin home right now and fuck him until they’re too worn out to do anything else but hold each other and tell each other the secrets that they’ve kept from the world. 

The thought of it makes Donghae pull away.

Sungmin makes a startled noise in his throat. Reaches out to pull Donghae back.

“No.” It takes every ounce of control Donghae possesses and then some. “Min… You’re right. It can’t be like this.”

“Donghae — ”

“No, listen to me, please.” He’s not sure of how to say what he’s feeling inside. Donghae’s thoughts are flying around his head faster than he can bring them under control. He closes his eyes, slumps against the door frame. “Please, Min. I’m not that strong. I know that if you really wanted me to, I’d take you up to your bedroom right now and fuck you through the mattress. I really would. But what you said just now…”

Donghae frowns. Tries again.

“See, I’m a selfish bastard, Min. I’m not going to tell you I’m not. It works like this; I want you. I want you more than anyone I’ve ever slept with. I know it sounds crude, but it’s true. You make me want to stop being an asshole who sleeps with anyone who gives him time of day… I — I want to get it right with you. But I don’t want you to go behind your boyfriend’s back about this, because you deserve more than that. What I mean to say is… if you really want to try, then let’s do it. Let’s be idiots this time, OK? Both of us. Come with me, Min. I’ve got a concert here in two weeks, and then I’m off on tour. I want you to come with me when I leave. I know it sounds crazy; you don’t have to say anything now, but I want you with me. And not just for the concert tour.”

“Just stay,” he says, taking hold of Sungmin’s hand. “Stop running away because you feel you owe it to somebody else. Stay with me.”

Sungmin doesn’t say anything. It’s like he’s frozen to the spot and Donghae knows he shouldn’t rush him, but he needs an answer. God, he’d take Sungmin away from all this in a second if he just got the word.

But he knows he’s asking for a lot. Perhaps too much, too soon. Donghae looks in Sungmin’s eyes. Even in the darkness, he can see the rigid set of Sungmin’s shoulders and how a muscle leaps in his jaw. The conflict brewing in Sungmin is obvious. His stomach sinking, Donghae knows he’s pushed his luck too far this time.

He presses a kiss against Sungmin’s knuckles, lets go of Sungmin’s hand.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” Donghae says. Sungmin cocks his head, the first movement Donghae’s seen from him in an age. “I know what it would cost you, Min. Honestly, I do. But, if you ever want to change your mind, I’ll wait for you. I don’t do giving up, Min. I haven’t had to back down from anything in a while, but if that’s what’s best right now, that’s what I’ll do.”

He turns to go.

“Hae, wait.” Sungmin shoots a hand out, catches the sleeve of Donghae’s jacket. “Don’t… I can’t…”

Donghae stops, his heart in his mouth. He can’t look at Sungmin; it’s taken all of his limited stores of resolution to leave, if he turns back now, he knows he’ll be lost.

“Let me go, Min. Allow me to at least try to be the good guy here for once, OK?”

Sungmin doesn’t reach out again.

Donghae walks back to his car, his head held high, his heart as numb as ice. He’s done it. He’s gambled it all, and he’s lost. As he pulls away from Sungmin’s beautiful, empty-looking house, Donghae watches in the rear-view mirror as the figure of Sungmin standing at the front door of his house slowly gets smaller and smaller, until he can’t see him any longer.

It doesn’t matter, Donghae tells himself. It really doesn’t matter. He’s going on tour soon. There will be other cities to visit, plenty of groupies to screw. Stuff like that. He’ll get over this unhealthy obsession in time. He just needs time to forget. Just like it was with his dad. Just like it was with Mokpo. He’s good at forgetting. Being on the road again will help. This was all such a stupid idea anyway. Sungmin was only a passing infatuation, someone he wanted because he’s so far out of Donghae’s orbit. That’s all that it ever was.

As Donghae presses down on the accelerator, he almost convinces himself that it’s the truth.

***

 

The next week passes in a blur. Preparations for the tour eventually consume every waking moment of Donghae’s life. He does’t think too much about Sungmin when he’s awake; he’s been kept too busy with dance rehearsals and singing rehearsals and technical rehearsals. Extra fitness training to keep him going during the concert. Then there’s the press conference where he promises to do his best for his loyal fans and tells everyone listening that the concert is going to be the biggest thing he’s ever done.

“You guys know my one true love are the fans I meet on tour,” he says confidently, when a journalist asks about his love life. Congratulates himself when his voice doesn’t falter as he lies to the entire world.

It’s all so easy. Donghae could do it in his sleep. If he ever gets more than a few hours each night. And it isn’t even good sleep, most times. Because Sungmin has found a way into Donghae’s dreams, worming his way into Donghae’s unconsciousness. Too often, Donghae wakes from a dream where Sungmin finally overcomes his all his myriad issues and ends up wrapped in Donghae’s arms, with the alarm on his phone blaring and Jungsoo pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. The dreams leave him hard and aching in the morning, desperate for relief and the press of a warm body against his.

Apart from the dreams, Donghae thinks he’s doing quite well.

Then one day, after an extra long technical rehearsal, Donghae learns that he isn’t quite as over Sungmin as he’d like to be. He’s exhausted when he reaches home, so he rewards himself with another large whiskey after an hot shower and lays on the sofa and thinks about Sungmin while he jerks himself off. He comes harder than he has in a month, the orgasm wrenching itself out of his fatigued body with such an intensity it leaves him breathless and panting, his right hand covered with spunk. Donghae winces at his weakness, wrinkles his nose at the mess.

After he cleans himself up, Donghae texts Sungmin. To be more accurate, he tries to.

 _I wish you were here._ He types. Frowns. Clears the message. _Why aren’t you here?_

That’s even worse. He tries again. _I want to see you._ No. No, that won’t do. He doesn’t need to sound needy on top of being annoying.

He’s saved by a phone call from Zhou Mi, who wants him to sign off on some designs one of the interns has thought of for his capsule collection. They talk about the tour, and how Zhou Mi wants backstage passes for all his friends, including the businessman he’s currently screwing.

“Dude, I am not helping you get laid!” Donghae tells him, only half-joking.

“Spoilsport. Hey, if I bring along a friend, will that make it up to you? Because if you think about it, I’d be helping you get laid too!” Zhou Mi sounds so chirpy Donghae can picture him actually bouncing up an down in excitement. “There’s this boy who’s just come over from China, and he tells me he’s a huge fan of yours…”

Zhou Mi goes on and on, and Donghae tries to pay attention, because this is the perfect opportunity to get his mind off Sungmin and kick his tour off with a big bang (literally). But he can’t focus on what Zhou Mi is saying, and it’s not just because Zhou Mi’s Korean suffers when he gets excited and slips into Mandarin. 

He wants Sungmin. Not some random guy Zhou Mi wants him to meet, not any one of the groupies who show up in a constant stream at his dressing room whenever he holds a concert. They’re all gorgeous people, that goes without saying. But the thought of having another random face in his bed for one night, and having them leave in the morning turns Donghae’s stomach. He knew Sungmin was trouble. He should have known it from the start. Now he’s too caught up, and he doesn’t want anyone but Sungmin.

How could he have been so careless? 

“Thanks,” he says, cutting off Zhou Mi mid-stream. “But I’m going to pass on this friend of yours. I’m sure he’s a great guy…”

“Whatever, I don’t care. He’s one of my cousin’s friends. Never met him before. You’ll still get me the passes, right?”

“Of course, you freeloading bastard.”

After they hang up, Donghae looks at his text again. In a fit of uncertainty he erases the last text, types a short sentence instead.

 _I miss you._ Donghae pauses, adds another line. _It’s kind of hard being an idiot without someone telling me I’m stupid. You’re the only one who can be bothered to._

He sends it before he can lose his nerve and tries not to be upset when no reply comes through.

He fails, of course. Tries not to think about what Sungmin is doing at the moment. Probably helping his boyfriend file their tax return while his father tries to make up more excuses for not wanting to see his eldest son.

Two days before his first concert, Donghae moves to the presidential suite of a swanky hotel near the concert venue so he doesn’t have to travel all the way back to his apartment for the three nights that he’s performing in Seoul. There’s always a nervous energy in the air as he prepares for one of these major concerts. It’s something he’s never managed to shake off in all his years in the business. He arrives at the final rehearsal nearly leaping out of his skin, and makes a point to gather everyone involved, from tech crew to back-up dancers, to a meeting just before they break for lunch to thank them for the hard work they’ve put in already and cheer them on.

During the break, on a whim, Donghae takes out his phone and snaps a photo of himself looking glum while the rest of the crew are away eating lunch. He sends it to Sungmin along with the address of the hotel and his room number.

_Can I at least get a congratulatory hamper from you and Mr Perfect?_

Because, after all, Donghae is nothing if not optimistic. He promises himself that this will be the last time he texts Sungmin, though. Especially if he gets no reply. There’s nothing sadder than a guy who won’t move on, and even though he’s got no idea how he’s going to avoid it, Donghae doesn’t want to be end up being that guy.

Rehearsals end late and Jungsoo corners him at dinner, insisting he do another phone interview with a journalist from one of the lifestyle magazines that cater mainly to wealthy socialites.

“It could raise your profile with that demographic!” Jungsoo says, with a slightly manic grin. He almost knocks his glass of wine into the kimchi dish.

“It makes me feel like a rent boy for hire.” Donghae snaps. “Hyung, come on! I’ll do a teeny bopper magazine if you want, but not this crap.”

“You need to be more open-minded, Hae!” Jungsoo hits Donghae lightly on the shoulder. “Fine. You look wrecked. Get some sleep. You have one free day before the show. Enjoy your last glimpse of freedom for the next two months. After that, your soul is mine.”

Donghae just shakes his head; he’s used to Jungsoo being weird and going on mini power trips. He slumps out of the hotel restaurant, runs into a couple of fans in the hotel lobby. He autographs some posters, poses for a few photos, rebuffs an overly enthusiastic fan. Nothing he can’t handle.

By the time he catches the lift up to his room, Donghae is so tired he can barely find the energy in himself to jab the right button for his floor. After what feels like an eternity, the lift finally reaches the penthouse level and Donghae manages to drag himself out. It takes several tries to get the door to his room open and he’s lusting after a burning hot bath for his tired muscles.

As he the door shuts behind him, Donghae realises something’s wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

_As he the door shuts behind him, Donghae realises something’s wrong._

There’s someone else in here with him. He looks up, expecting a crazed fan with a blunt letter opener or something similarly dangerous to come charging at him, already ready to run out the door and scream for help.

But there’s no letter opener, no crazed fan.

Instead, Sungmin stares back at him. He’s got a bottle of red wine in his hand, and by the looks of things, has just finished pouring a glass.

Donghae waits for his alarm to start ringing. For Jungsoo to start pounding on his room door, telling him to wake up soon or he’ll skin Donghae alive. Perhaps he’s fallen asleep in the bath, and his subconscious is playing tricks again.

He blinks; once, twice. Sungmin doesn’t disappear. No alarms start to ring. There’s no one yelling. 

Sungmin sets the bottle of wine down. He looks so nervous, so unsure. This isn’t like Donghae’s dreams, when Sungmin magically appears in Donghae’s arms and they hump like teenagers.

Donghae spots the small case by the side of the bed just as Sungmin comes close. His heart is pounding.

“Say something, Hae.” He whispers.

Donghae opens his mouth, but he can’t find the words. Exhaustion and disbelief combine to rob him of speech. Instead he reaches out, cups his palm against the smooth curve of Sungmin’s cheek, rubs against the skin there. His hand drifts lower and Donghae marvels at how real this all seems. He presses his thumb against Sungmin’s mouth like he’s dreaming about for the past few nights.

“Please tell me I’m not asleep,” he manages.

Sungmin smiles, takes hold of Donghae’s hand. He leans forward, presses a soft kiss against the corner of Donghae’s mouth. It’s so gentle, Donghae hardly feels it.

“How’s that?” Sungmin asks.

For a moment, Donghae actually forgets all the elaborate plans and fantasies he’s been rehearsing in his mind in preparation for this eventuality, and he just stares dumbly at Sungmin’s expectant face.

Then (luckily), instinct kicks in. Donghae pulls Sungmin close with his free hand.

“This better not be a fucking dream,” he whispers, just before he dips his head and kisses Sungmin. 

It’s better than any dream.

For one thing, Sungmin fits much too easily into the circle of Donghae’s arms, and the way he whimpers as Donghae’s tongue finds its way into his mouth makes Donghae’s tired body ache with desire. Their tongues tangle, and it’s messy, but it’s wonderful and real. Sungmin’s lips are softer than he remembers. His hands clutch at Donghae’s shoulders, and he doesn’t push away. Not this time. Instead he pulls Donghae closer and their bodies align and press together, and Donghae is pretty sure he’s about to collapse from the sheer perfection of this moment.

Sungmin pulls away, and Donghae is about to complain and whine, but then he registers Sungmin’s lips along his jaw, down his neck. Sharp teeth dig into the skin at the base of his throat and Donghae can’t help himself; he moans Sungmin’s name out loud, hisses and swears as Sungmin sucks a mark there.

“Oh, God. Min. Shit…”

He reaches out, tries to get Sungmin’s pristine white business shirt off, but it’s hard when he’s being pinned to the wall with Sungmin’s hands down the front of his jeans. Donghae’s head falls back, just as Sungmin palms his erection, sliding one hand down the shaft of his cock.

“Still think this is a dream, Hae?” Sungmin asks. Donghae didn’t think he could get more aroused, considering how tired he is, but the dark, husky tone in Sungmin’s voice makes his cock leap in Sungmin’s grasp. “Oh, you like that, do you?”

Coherent speech is actually beyond Donghae right now. He mewls as Sungmin begins to pump him slowly, tries not to beg for him to go faster. But there’s something niggling him. And it isn’t the light switch digging into his back.

“Wait!” He finally shouts, just as Sungmin kneels at his feet, about to unbutton his jeans. Great, he thinks, you grow a conscience right before a blowjob. Way to go, genius.

“Min, stop.” Unable to stand any longer, Donghae slides to the floor so he can look Sungmin in the eye. “Um… possibly this is the stupidest thing I’ll ever do, but I need to ask, OK? Because I’m kinda slow about these things.”

Donghae ignores Sungmin’s cocked eyebrow. He pulls Sungmin close again so that Sungmin is kneeling between his splayed thighs. Tries to resist the urge to kiss Sungmin again.

“OK… so. Let me get this straight; you’re here.” Donghae’s rewarded with nod from Sungmin, followed by a kiss on his forehead. Hmm. He’ll take that. “With that bag.”

He gets a kiss on his left cheek, which Donghae takes as a sign of further encouragement. Then the enormity of it all hits him; Sungmin’s done it. He’s broken up with his boyfriend. He’s walked away from the Stepford curse. Hope lights in his chest, turns into pure joy. Donghae can’t help grinning, exhaustion falling from him in that moment of realisation.

“Because you’ve told that bastard to go fuck himself?”

A pause. Sungmin looks at Donghae like he expected better. Donghae shrugs, unrepentant. Tugs Sungmin forward.

“You left him.” This time, Sungmin smiles. He kisses Donghae on his right cheek. “You left him… for me.”

Bingo. Sungmin hooks his arms around Donghae’s neck. They kiss hungrily, Sungmin surprising Donghae with his aggression. He nips at Donghae’s lips and growls when Donghae tries to move. Then he pushes Donghae back against the wall and steals the breath right out of Donghae’s lungs while Donghae slides his hands up Sungmin’s back, marvelling at the way Sungmin’s shirt stretches over taut muscle.

“… OK. I get all of that,” Donghae manages, when they finally break for air. “But I gotta ask, why now? What made you change your mind?”

“You,” Sungmin answers, his eyes alight with something close to happiness. “You and your stupid speech that night after you dropped me home. I could see how much of yourself you were giving up to try and show me how good we could be together. It made me think about what I’d given up for everyone else, and how happy it made me. After you left, I thought about what you said really seriously. I tried to think of all the different ways things could pan out. But I was still so scared of what I could lose.”

He pauses. Donghae takes the opportunity to undo the first few buttons on Sungmin’s shirt. His hands get pushed away. “Listen, idiot! Anyway a few days after that, my boyfriend comes back to Seoul and goes straight out to a bar with some colleagues because they have to discuss the latest business management books. He made me go along with him. I sat there, and I damn near lost my mind because I was so bored, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. About living a life on my own terms. He didn’t notice, of course.”

Donghae manages to undo the next three buttons. He tries very hard to concentrate on what Sungmin is saying. Not on the creamy expanse of skin that’s being revealed to his hungry gaze. Sungmin slaps his hands away again. They grin at each other and Donghae thinks Sungmin’s ex-boyfriend must be one stupid son of a bitch for letting Sungmin ever get bored, but he’ll thank him for being so oblivious.

“I think something just snapped in me that night, Hae. I told you how bad you were for me. You made me want so much more, only this time, I was ready to do something about it.” Sungmin giggles nervously. “And then your text came in, what was I supposed to do? That was probably when I started to pack. I don’t have much of myself in that house, so it was easy to just make up a bag. I told him that things weren’t working out and I wasn’t really willing to negotiate for time to see him in between big projects and discussions about which college has the best MBA programme anymore. That was last night. I rang my dad up today. I… I told him I wanted to quit.”

Shit. Donghae pauses his unbuttoning. “What did he say?”

“He’s not happy,” Sungmin says. “But I figure he’s already been grooming Sungjin to take over the company for a while. I don’t care, Hae. My heart was never in that business anyway. Now I’m here, because I want to try being an idiot with you. It’s the scariest thing I’ve done in my life.”

“So…” Donghae can’t help it. “You’re staying?”

Sungmin nods. Then he leans in close, so that their lips are a few millimetres apart.

“But I swear, Lee Donghae, you mess me around and I’ll show you exactly what I learnt in my wushu classes. You sleep around like you normally do and I promise I will rip your guts out with my bare hands.”

“I won’t!” Donghae yelps. He catches the glint of laughter in Sungmin’s eyes. “Oh, ha ha. Very funny. Heechul-hyung has already told me he’d eat my heart if I hurt you, so I guess you’re pretty well covered. I mean… Min. You don’t have to worry; I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

It’s so lame, Donghae thinks, but it’s true. That’s a lot more than can be said for the scripted lyrics and greetings he uses when he’s out in public.

The way Sungmin smiles at him, Donghae figures he’s said the right thing. For once.

After ten seconds of trying to undress Sungmin while they’re both on the floor, and becoming increasingly frustrated with how difficult it’s proving to be, Donghae gives up. He stands and pulls Sungmin to his feet.

“I am not having you on that carpet,” he states, to Sungmin’s evident amusement. “I want to do this right, Min.”

He leads Sungmin to the oversized bed in the middle of the room. The penthouse suite he’s been given is larger than Donghae’s entire apartment, and has panoramic views of the sleeping city, but Donghae doesn’t really give a shit at this point. He presses a button on the bedside table and lowers the room’s curtains, then carefully turns off all the lights, except the lamps on either side of the bed. Donghae pulls off the decorative bedspread and tosses it on a nearby armchair. Without it, the bed is a pristine expanse of white cotton sheets. 

A completely blank canvas. Donghae feels a shudder of lust go through him as he contemplates exactly how he’ll debauch Sungmin on those innocent-looking sheets. Before he can get too carried away with his own fantasies, he realises he’s forgotten something.

“Oh!” Donghae jogs to the door, annoyed at himself. “Hang on.”

“Hae?” Sungmin looks doubtful. “Where are you going?”

Grinning, Donghae presses a button on the side panel. The ‘do not disturb’ indicator turns on, and he can’t help himself sniggering as he throws the double lock on the door.

“How old are you again?” Sungmin asks, when Donghae comes back to the bed.

“Old enough to know better.”

Donghae doesn’t waste anymore time. He pulls Sungmin in for another kiss — he’s becoming alarmingly addicted to kissing Sungmin, it seems — and eases him down onto the bed.

Sungmin murmurs as Dongae lowers him onto the mattress, then moans as Donghae allows himself to give in to temptation and kisses his way down Sungmin’s chest. He gets Sungmin’s shirt untucked and nearly rips out the last few buttons in his hurry to finally get the shirt off.

“Careful,” Sungmin chides. Whatever he’s about to say next is cut off as Donghae straddles his hips and grinds down, eager to begin. Donghae explores with his lips and tongue, mapping every inch of Sungmin’s skin he can reach. He whispers what he’d love to do to Sungmin with every press of his lips, swears that he’s never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of Sungmin arching up to meet his touch, and means every word he says. Sungmin is all sensual, delicious curves and Donghae kisses trails over Sungmin’s chest, from the tips of his fingers to the base of his throat, tries not to bite down too hard as he nips at the delicate skin of Sungmin’s inner wrist.

“Fuck… Hae.” A hand in Donghae’s hair makes him stop and look up. Sungmin’s eyes are painted black with desire and his lips are so beautifully swollen that Donghae kisses him again, wanting to glut himself on the taste and feel of them against his. He’s so hard now; desire has turned into an ache that feels almost painful, and it’s only made worse when Sungmin slips his hands under Donghae’s t-shirt. The shock of Sungmin actually touching him back makes Donghae stop for a moment.

“Off,” Sungmin whispers. “All off.”

He pulls and tugs and suddenly Donghae is free of the t-shirt, which Sungmin tosses aside impatiently. His eyes take in Donghae’s bare torso with a hungry, almost famished gaze. Donghae’s felt — and revelled in — the stares of the fans whenever he’s taken his shirt off onstage, or in front of any of his previous lovers, but this is different. This feels far more intimate. Donghae feels his heart thumping against his chest, feels everything around him slow down. He can barely hear anything else but their breathing, can’t look away from Sungmin.

Desire makes him unsure of himself. He gets rid of the rest of his clothes, stripping off his boxer shorts and nearly tripping over them in his hurry to get back to bed.

Sungmin says nothing, but his mouth opens slightly when he finally sees Donghae naked. It’s not the most dramatic reaction, but the way he reaches out for Donghae makes Donghae want to cry.

“Min,” he starts, but gets no further. He’s too dumbfounded by the force of his need, of what he feels for Sungmin. 

It’s so stupid, he thinks. Absolutely fucking crazy that he should want Sungmin as much as he does. It doesn’t make any sort of sense. Donghae was never one for making sense of things, though. Maybe that’s the best thing about this. It shouldn’t make any sense.

He clambers back into Sungmin’s arms and starts to kiss his way down Sungmin’s body again. He mouths at a nipple, then sucks it into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth. Sungmin arches off the bed, swearing softly, and Donghae stops, alarmed.

“Shit. Sorry! Does that… Am I hurting you?”

Sungmin shakes his head. “No… but I don’t want you to hold back, Hae.”

“What?” Donghae shakes his head to clear it, provoking a giggle.

“I want you to mark me,” Sungmin says, his voice low and husky. “I don’t want you to be careful.”

Oh. Oh, God.

Donghae hears himself whimper, and it’s surprising that he can have any coherent thoughts at all after that. He bends his head, claims Sungmin’s lips in a searing kiss. It’s hungrier, more desperate than any of their previous kisses, and Donghae revels in the way Sungmin whines and bucks when his fingers slide down Sungmin’s chest and belly, dipping down to where the jut of his hipbone rises above the waistband of his trousers.

“Yes…” Sungmin moans, “Please, Hae.”

It nearly undoes him, but Donghae manages to keep going. He unzips Sungmin carefully, pushes down his trousers and underwear, kicks them away. Has to stop to take in the sight of Sungmin’s cock, risen and proud, sticky with pre-come. Sungmin’s thighs are pale and milk-white, spread open in blatant invitation and this time Donghae doesn’t stop himself. He moves down Sungmin’s body, licks a long stripe up the sensitive inner part of Sungmin’s thigh, at the junction of thigh and hip. Sungmin mewls, fists his hands in Donghae’s hair, howls as Donghae bites down and sucks hard, his tongue laving at the marks his teeth have left behind. Donghae raises his head, sees Sungmin watching him through lowered eyelashes.

“Watch me, Min.”

And he moves to Sungmin’s other thigh and leaves another bite, glorying in the way Sungmin spits like a wildcat and twists his hands into Donghae’s hair even more. Donghae moves to Sungmin’s straining cock, presses a kiss to the tip. He makes sure to meet Sungmin’s avid gaze as he takes Sungmin’s entire length into his mouth, pausing slightly to push past his gag reflex. Sungmin’s thicker than he imagined, and it’s not an unpleasant surprise at all.

“Ah, Donghae…” Sungmin’s voice trails off into a high-pitched whine as Donghae begins to suck. He slides down Sungmin’s cock, until it’s nearly out of his mouth before taking it in all the way again, and Sungmin’s twisting and arching underneath him, cursing him and begging him not to stop. Please don’t stop. His cries are addictive, intoxicating. Donghae’s world shrinks down further to being aware of nothing but Sungmin underneath him and Sungmin’s fingers in his hair. He reaches up with his hand, cups Sungmin’s sac, feeling the weight of his balls, fascinated by the way it makes Sungmin moan and gasp.

Donghae lavishes the head of Sungmin’s cock with long, wet licks, uses his free hand to pump Sungmin’s shaft in time. He circles the head of Sungmin’s cock with his tongue, then licks at the slit. Sungmin’s hands tighten, and it hurts, but Donghae is immune to pain at this point. All he wants to do is make Sungmin come. His eyes flutter closed, and all he can taste is the salty-sweet tang of Sungmin’s spunk on his tongue, and all he smells is Sungmin’s arousal, mixed with his own. His hand moves along Sungmin’s dick faster, milking every moan and whine of pleasure and wanting more. Donghae’s own cock is so hard every movement across the soft cotton sheets makes him want to stop and fuck his hand so he can come with Sungmin. But he keeps his impulses under control. For now. Because nothing matters more than Sungmin.

It doesn’t take much longer. Sungmin comes with a long wail, his back arching off the mattress. He shoots into Donghae’s waiting mouth with surprising intensity, then pulls him up with shaking hands. They face each other and Donghae can’t help but be amazed at the heightened colour in Sungmin’s cheeks. Sungmin is so exquisitely beautiful it takes Donghae’s breath away, and the way he’s looking at Donghae, as though he’s only really seeing him now, is insanely arousing.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Sungmin tells him, and the awestruck tone there makes Donghae’s insides twist. They kiss again, Sungmin whimpering as he tastes himself on Donghae’s tongue. 

“Say you want me,” Donghae whispers, in between open-mouthed kisses, as he tries to touch as much of Sungmin as his fingers can reach. Every part of Sungmin’s skin seems smooth and soft and incredibly perfect. “Say you want me as much as I want you, Min.”

“I want you,” Sungmin tells him, in between sighs and soft moans. “I want you, I want you.”

Donghae wishes he could freeze time, but he settles for pulling Sungmin against him tightly, running his hands down the curve of Sungmin’s back and cupping his luscious ass. 

“I watched all your music videos,” Sungmin murmurs, as Donghae’s exploring with his fingers again, mouthing kisses along Sungmin’s collarbone. “After we met the first time, I watched all of them. Heechul kept passing me your DVDs for a long time, but I never was interested. I thought you were just some fluffy idol the teenagers loved to go crazy over. Even that movie I saw you in with Choi Siwon, I only watched it because I was dragged to the cinema by friends.”

“This going anywhere good?” Donghae asks, giving Sungmin’s left ass cheek a sharp pinch.

“Oww! Bastard! Listen for a minute, OK? Anyway, after we met, I watched the DVDs, Hae. And I listened to your songs.”

“Yes.” Donghae licks at the hollow of Sungmin’s throat.

“…And I touched myself. When my boyfriend wasn’t around, I mean. I thought about you while I jerked off, Hae. I knew I should have better self-control. But… the way you looked at me that night, how you wouldn’t stop trying, everything you represented… I couldn’t help it. It scared me when I realised how much I wanted you.”

Donghae stops. The thought of Sungmin touching himself while his music plays in the background sends a shiver up his spine. He looks at Sungmin, sees the slight embarrassment in his eyes, and falls even harder.

“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters. “Every time I think I get a handle on you, you keep surprising me with stuff like this.”

Sungmin has the good grace to look slightly guilty, right before he hooks his leg over Donghae’s and flips them so that he lands on top. Their cocks brush together, and Donghae doesn’t even bother stifling a groan.

“My turn,” Sungmin says, and the smile he wears is ever so slightly evil. He leans down and traces his fingers across Donghae’s chest, down his arms, over his hips, down his thighs, never lingering long enough in any one spot. It’s infuriating, but Sungmin’s weight makes him hard to shift, and Donghae is quite happy to be tortured to death like this. Part of his brain still can’t quite make out that this is actually happening. The other is much too preoccupied with the way Sungmin is slowly driving him crazy.

His fingers reach Donghae’s nipples and Sungmin pinches each one in turn, sharp enough to hurt, but the heat that flares up afterwards makes Donghae gasp with want. 

“Don’t tease me anymore, Min…” He begs, hating and loving the sound of his voice gone breathless with desperation. “Please…”

Sungmin presses another burning kiss to Donghae’s lips, pulls at his earlobe with sharp white teeth.

“I’m going to ride you into this mattress, Hae.”

Donghae thinks those words sound incredibly vulgar coming out of Sungmin’s perfect lips, but he can’t deny the effect they have on his over-heated body, especially the images they conjure in his fevered mind. Then he whimpers at the loss of contact as Sungmin gets off him suddenly. Confused, he turns his head to see Sungmin pawing through the contents of the case he brought with him.

“What’s more important than me?” He whines, frustrated.

Sungmin shushes him, takes out a tube of lubricant and a foil packet, gets back on the bed, and back onto Donghae. His grin is predatory and he shifts his weight, purposely pinning Donghae in place.

“If you’re going to be so impatient next time, you’re going to have to wait a lot longer, Hae. You just got lucky tonight, because next time, I swear I’ll make you beg for it.”

Donghae gulps and nods, turned on by the thought of there actually being a next time as much as he is by the sight of Sungmin straddling him with such authority. Watches with avid fascination as Sungmin uncaps the lube and squirts a good amount on his fingers. He’s expecting Sungmin to help slick him up. What happens next, though, is far better than that.

Sungmin smiles at Donghae again, this time looking a little less sure of himself. He kneels forward, pushing his weight onto the mattress, his thighs braced on either side of Donghae’s body. Donghae’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as Sungmin slides a finger into himself, gasping as he does so. He fucks himself slowly, adding another finger as the colour rises in his cheeks again, and the arm he’s using to hold himself up begins to tremble just a little. The wet sound his fingers make borders on the obscene.

“Mmm,” Sungmin bites his lip. “God, I want you Hae. I want you to fuck me so hard. Thought about you doing this to me for so long… Couldn’t stop thinking about you… How you’d make me beg, how you’d make me scream for you…”

His mouth is dry, but Donghae finds it in himself to murmur Sungmin’s name, unable to look away as Sungmin opens himself up for him.

“Min… Christ how are you even real?”

They look at each other, mutual lust and desire and need writ plainly on both their faces. Donghae scrambles for the condom, rips open the packaging and rolls it on, lube squirting onto the sheets and over his hands as he squeezes the tube too hard. He replaces Sungmin’s hand with his own, runs over the curve of Sungmin’s ass with his fingers before dipping into the cleft between Sungmin’s cheeks.

There isn’t any need for words now, but Donghae makes sure to hold Sungmin’s gaze as his fingers breach Sungmin. God, it’s even better than his fantasies, because Sungmin is more real and vivid than any dream, the sounds he makes as Donghae fucks him are beautiful and debauched at the same time. The way he clutches at Donghae’s shoulders and begs him not to stop is headier than the applause from a stadium full of fans screaming Donghae’s name.

“Hae!” Sungmin moans, his voice breathless and raw. “Wait, I — I want you in me when I come.”

Donghae didn’t know he could be any more turned on at this stage, but he’s happy to be proven wrong. He lets Sungmin rearrange them so they’re both positioned properly, and then, with agonising slowness, Sungmin carefully lowers himself onto Donghae’s aching cock.

He doesn’t know how he manages, but Donghae stops himself from simply fucking up into Sungmin’s tight heat straight away. It’s hard to think, much less talk, and something about this moment feels so absolutely perfect Donghae doesn’t think he could do it justice if he tried to describe it in words. They fit together too well, like dancers in a duet, and Sungmin starts to roll his hips, taking Donghae in still further, until he’s buried up to the hilt in Sungmin, and it’s still not close enough. Donghae wants to possess Sungmin, wants to be Sungmin’s possession. 

Sungmin leans back, pushes forward with his hips and sets a slow, torturous rhythm that has Donghae arching up and pushing back against him. They’re silent now, except for the grunts and sighs and moans and gasps as Sungmin rides Donghae for all he’s worth, grinding down while Donghae thrusts upwards. Cause and effect. Action and reaction. Donghae’s not sure which is which any longer. He reaches up, settles his hands on Sungmin’s waist, presses down, and Sungmin turns frantic. He whines, his hips almost a blur against Donghae’s.

“Make — oh God! — Make me come, Hae. Make me come for you.”

Donghae needs no further encouragement. He wraps one hand around Sungmin’s cock, jerks it in time with his thrusting, and the keening moan it produces sounds sweeter than any music he’s ever heard. He tries to coordinate his movements, but gives up after half a second, too intoxicated by how Sungmin feels around him, how Sungmin’s cock feels in his hand. They’re close, so close. He can feel the wave of his pleasure cresting, bearing down upon him with frightening speed.

He falls apart first, his desire finally overcoming him, the force of his orgasm so intense it knocks the wind out of Donghae and he can only gasp Sungmin’s name as the world explodes in a haze of red behind his closed eyes. He gives a few more tugs on Sungmin’s cock as the intensity of his climax subsides a little, hears Sungmin’s guttural groan of completion as he covers Donghae’s fist in his spunk, just before Sungmin collapses on top of him, their limbs tangling together, sticky with sweat and come.

It takes several minutes for Donghae to move again, but he manages to extricate himself, peel off his condom and throw it away before sinking back into bed, exhausted and bone-weary, but feeling as though he could burst from happiness. There is a sense of satisfaction, too, which comes from having finally convinced Sungmin just how much he was missing out on, although Donghae isn’t quite sure if he persuaded Sungmin, or Sungmin decided to choose to come on his own terms. Whatever, he’s not fussy; the end result is all that matters. Sungmin is here, with him, not stuck in some dead-end relationship whilst trying to keep a low profile just to make his father happy. Donghae knows what it would have cost Sungmin, and he’s not about to let himself forget that anytime soon.

He turns off the lights and slides under the sheets, careless of the stains that now decorate the once spotless bedspread. Pulls Sungmin away from the wet spot and sighs happily as they wind themselves around each other. Somehow Sungmin knows that Donghae’s head fits perfectly on his chest, tucked under his chin, and Donghae finds that his arms are made for slipping around Sungmin’s waist, just as he always knew they would. In the dark, they just have each other, and that’s more than enough. 

“I could get used to this,” Donghae states, quite confidently, as fatigue threatens to overwhelm him.

Sungmin laughs. Pinches Donghae’s nose. “Get used to what? The sex or having strange men turn up in your hotel room?”

“Both.” Donghae shifts so he can hear Sungmin’s heartbeat under his ear. “Neither. I mean lying next to you and you not running off because you feel guilty.”

He covers Sungmin’s mouth before the other man can say anything. Unlike the last time he tried this, Sungmin simply raises his eyebrows, waits for him to continue. Feeling guilty, Donghae takes his hand away.

“I mean, I promise you’ll not have to feel like that again, Min. Not when we’re together. I don’t want you to have to think about shit like that anymore. You’re your own person, OK? You don’t have to act for anyone else now. I promise you that. I want to be someone you can talk to, not someone who makes you keep secrets. You and I, we don’t need secrets.”

This is when Donghae knows he’s in trouble. Because he wants Sungmin to stay around. Because he’s about to turn his back on the freewheeling lifestyle he used to have, and the different partner in his bed in each different city in his tour schedule. But most of all, he’s knows this can only be a bad thing because he doesn’t think he’ll miss it at all. Not even the drunken karaoke parties with his band in hotel room bathtubs. 

Well. Maybe he’ll miss that last thing a little.

Then Sungmin smiles, and Donghae doesn’t even have to think. He tugs Sungmin forward and kisses him. He’s worn out and battered and bruised by love, utterly devastated by Sungmin.

But he thinks that perhaps it isn’t such a bad thing.

***

 

The next morning, Donghae wakes in a tangle of bedsheets to find that Sungmin is already awake. He panics for a moment, imagining the worst, but then he sits up and sees Sungmin sipping the glass of wine he poured out last night.

“It’s a bit early for that,” he says, “come back here so I can carry on where we left off.”

“Incorrigible,” Sungmin scolds, sounding exasperated, though his smile tells another story. He sets down the glass and goes into the bathroom instead.

Donghae decides this is as good a time as any to get cleaned up. He sniffs experimentally at himself and decides that the shower he missed out on last night is most definitely needed now.

The fact that Sungmin has already stepped into the oversized shower has nothing to do with it at all. 

(That last observation is a complete lie, of course.)

Donghae gets into the shower just as Sungmin is soaping himself. He decides to help out, but gets distracted by the slide of his hand over Sungmin’s skin, and the way that Sungmin gasps and twitches under his touch. Sungmin’s skin is warm and tastes vaguely of the hotel soap and a deeper flavour that is unique to him. Donghae would go on exploring, but Sungmin hauls him to his feet before he can get much further down Sungmin’s body than just his stomach.

“My turn, Hae.”

He sinks to his knees, opens his beautiful mouth, and wraps his lips around Donghae’s cock. The sight of it is so powerfully arousing, and the feel of Sungmin’s mouth around him so intoxicating, that it doesn’t take long before Donghae comes in Sungmin’s mouth, trembling as Sungmin’s tongue milks every last drop of spunk from him.

In return, Donghae makes Sungmin brace himself against the wall of the shower cubicle and rims slowly him as water beats down on both of them and fog mists up the glass walls. Sungmin gasps and spits like a wildcat and calls Donghae all sorts of names before switching tack and begging him to just fuck him properly, stop being such a fucking pricktease, Hae. That last comment ends in a gasp as Donghae turns his face and bites down hard on Sungmin’s ass cheek.

“Ah! If you’re not going to fuck me now, Hae, you’re a sadistic fucking bastard and I will kill you with a blunt spoon.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” Donghae says mockingly, although he is a little frightened by the ferocity in Sungmin’s eyes. They manage to get out of the shower and find another condom in Sungmin’s secret stash, which nearly gets ripped to pieces in their haste. 

The moan Sungmin makes when Donghae finally thrusts into him, is almost enough to trigger his second orgasm of the day. His nails leave vivid red marks against the paleness of Sungmin’s skin as they writhe together. Donghae comes moaning Sungmin’s name, bites down on the rounded curve of Sungmin’s shoulder. He jerks Sungmin off afterwards, loving the sound Sungmin makes as he climaxes, a long howl that he tries to muffle with his fist, though Donghae pulls his hand away at the last moment so the sound fills the hotel room.

“Such a pervert,” Sungmin mutters later, when they find themselves in much the same positions they woke up in. He strokes Donghae’s hair, winding sections of it around his fingers, then draws patterns down Donghae’s back.

“You love it,” Donghae retorts, wallowing in the afterglow of his orgasm. He lifts his head so he can grin at Sungmin. “You like me too much.”

Sungmin sighs dramatically.

“I do. I suppose I’m stuck with you, then.”

And Donghae’s smile is so wide it hurts his face, just as the morning sun shines in through gaps in the curtains. 

A new day is already here, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he can breathe easy.


End file.
